Sweet Waiting
by reader304
Summary: Carol Marcus signed onto the 5-year mission as one of the family, but she didn't finish the journey. Where did she go? What inspired her to change her life? Where does the charming Captain Kirk fit into all of this?
1. Chapter 1

**My fellow Trekkers, by now most of us have seen _Beyond_ , and naturally there's one question on everyone's mind: What happened to Carol? I had an immediate thought about why she might have left the _Enterprise_ early in its journey, and somehow it turned into a 12,000-word-and-counting fanfic. I don't usually start one fic while in the middle of another, but this flash of inspiration could not be ignored. Please read and enjoy!**

 **(Also, if you have doubts about whether this is for-profit or simply fic shared among fans...what website do you think you're on?)**

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Carol Marcus was in the type of bad mood that could only be cured by curling up in one's quarters, alone. As usually happens in these situations, though, one thing after another was going wrong. Being fifteen minutes late for her shift that morning had led to a formal reprimand from Commander Spock, which was complicated by the fact that she could hardly look him in the eye. The reprimand had eaten up another seven minutes before Spock decided to go off-duty at last. When she finally got into the lab and started supervising the tests on one of the samples from yesterday's away team, she'd lived in hope that the day might recover. Her hope had lasted roughly two hours, after which a soil sample had spontaneously started heating up and emitting strange fumes. Which would've been fine, except somehow, the hood with the sample in it hadn't been properly sealed. The fumes flooded into her lab.

As always, full evacuation and automated detoxing of Science Lab Four took over an hour. Carol – as ranking science officer on duty – had to take charge of interviewing all the technicians and doctors and janitors who had been anywhere near that soil sample, then referring them all to sickbay until the cause of the trouble could be isolated and neutralized. All of this, naturally, necessitated a full incident report. Since her office was on the other side of a quarantine screen at that point, she had to tap one out on a PADD while sitting on an uncomfortable chair in sickbay's reception area. It was a bad time to write a report in more ways than one. Between worrying about her crew and her lab, she could hardly manage a coherent sentence. It took ages to assemble even the most basic summary.

Finally, as she was submitting the report to Commander Spock, Dr. McCoy came over with some good news. "I count two asthma attacks and three cases of dermatitis," he said, "but overall, I'd say you got off pretty lucky in this whole thing. I don't know what was in that sample, but it wasn't radioactive, infectious, or lethal."

"Thank goodness," was all Carol could think of to say.

"Of course, we'll have his Pointiness haunting us for the rest of the week, going over everyone's symptoms while we try to figure out what this was, plus the safety and compliance officers will crawl up our asses and shout for a while. So we aren't exactly getting out cheap."

Carol groaned inwardly, and failed to keep all of the guilt out of her voice. "Well, everyone has a job to do. Of course we all want to know how that hood seal got compromised. I doubt it wore out already, so most likely someone got distracted." _Maybe that someone was me, in fact,_ she thought. And suddenly her eyes were watering.

McCoy put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, don't beat yourself up. Incidents will happen, when you're dealing with the unknown every day. And there wasn't much harm done. At least this time nothing exploded."

Carol tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace. "Yeah, at least there's that," she said, brushing at her eye with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry, I'm being silly. But this happened on my watch and well, it's just…"

"I understand," the doctor said. "I've sat with more than my share of embarrassed officers. Go on, get out of here. Have a hot shower. Replicate your favorite dessert in the mess hall. There's nothing going on here that can't be sorted out tomorrow, or maybe the day after if we don't feel like rushing." McCoy winked at her.

Carol hoped she wasn't blushing. _If he only knew how badly I'd screwed up, he wouldn't be this nice to me_ , she thought, shame pulsing through her heart. "Thanks, doctor, but I think I will visit our asthmatics and our rash sufferers first. Just to keep up morale." _Their morale, anyway. There's no hope for mine,_ she thought darkly as she headed into the bay.


	2. Chapter 2

Carol finally made it to her own deck by an hour past the time she should've been home. The lack of sleep from the night before was definitely starting to set in, and a headache was forming just behind her ears. She glanced around before leaving the turbolift to be sure that no one was in the hallway. The absolute last thing she needed right now was to run into one of her neighbors by chance.

The problem with being a Starfleet officer with a disgraced father, she reflected as she walked towards her own door, was that it was difficult to find confidantes. Everyone was either a subordinate or a witness to how she'd been duped during the Khan situation. There was no one on this entire huge, noisy ship with whom she could commiserate. No one to whom she could explain: _I'm not embarrassed today because there was an accident in the lab, there was an accident in the lab today because I was embarrassed._

At last – her own door. She quickly tapped the unlock pad and then shut the door behind her without even turning on the lights. She slumped back against the wall and groaned before crouching down to unfasten her boots. She groped around for the slippers she usually kept by the door, and absentmindedly mumbled, "lights on!"

Slippers donned, finally comfortable, Carol Marcus stood up and looked into her cabin. Captain James T. Kirk was sitting on her bed.

She jumped out of her skin and yelled in surprise. "Fuck, Jim, what the hell are you doing in my room? And why the hell didn't you turn on the lights?"

The captain stood up and backed up against the far wall, his hands out in a conciliatory gesture. "I really didn't mean to startle you, Carol, I'm sorry about that. I did turn on the lights but they turned off when you tapped the outdoor lock. I don't know why they were programmed that way. Then once you were inside I didn't know how to turn them back on without scaring you."

"Clearly!" Carol snapped. "But how the hell did you even get in?"

"Captain's override of the door lock. It's actually scary how easy it is for me to get in anywhere."

"I'll say," Carol said icily. "Now, would you care to explain why you broke into my room?"

Jim put his hands down, and wiped the palms on his pants. "I thought we should talk."

"And you've never heard of sending a lady a message if you want to meet, instead of ambushing her in her own bedroom?"

Jim met her gaze without an ounce of embarrassment. "I am not ambushing you. I will leave whenever you ask me too. But you know why I'm here. And you know there is hardly any privacy on this ship, especially not for the captain. So you can definitely guess why I snuck in to meet you."

Carol sighed and rubbed her head. "All right, yes, I do. But I'm not – it's just, I've had a terrible day."

"I heard. The adventure of the smoking soil samples," Kirk grinned the way he always did when the _Enterprise_ was about to discover something new. "Your incident report was very interesting, though I'm pretty sure your grammar teacher would make you do it over if she saw – "

"Did you come in here to discuss my grammar?" Carol snapped. "Or was there something else on your mind?"

"Uh, right, I'm digressing," Jim said. "Can we sit?"

"Sure," Carol said, waving at the cabin's desk chair. "You sit there, and I'll sit on the bed. It'll save time for when I pass out after this."

They sat down. "So," Jim said, and for once in his life he looked nervous. "Last night . . ." He trailed off.

"Last night," Carol said, her bad mood bubbling over into impatience. "We had sex. What do you have to say about it?"


	3. Chapter 3

Today had not been the first bad day this week, as far as Carol Marcus was concerned, nor the first of the year. A little over nineteen months had passed since Khan crushed her father's skull – eleven on earth, eight in deep space. Starfleet headquarters had been full of dirty looks aimed at her and whispers behind her back. No one was quite sure they trusted that she hadn't been in on her father's horrible plans. Joining the crew of the rebuilt _Enterprise_ had seemed like a good way to escape. She'd thought, _maybe this mission is where I'll discover or invent something important. Maybe this is how I can make my name be my own, not my asshole father's._ So she'd put in for a post in the science division and she'd given up everything she owned back on earth – even the house she grew up in – and she'd turned the _Enterprise_ into her new home, her new world.

For the most part, really, the plan had worked. Her _Enterprise_ crewmates were professionals and none of them ever intentionally hurt her. None of them brought up her father specifically to curse his name. People actively avoided mentioned the Khan disaster in her hearing, which was what she wanted. Yet hardly anyone made serious overtures of friendship, despite the close quarters. She hardly had three people on board she'd call more than acquaintances. She couldn't help thinking that the "well-her-father-was" conversations were still happening, out of earshot. She couldn't help thinking that people remembered how she was the only person Admiral Marcus beamed to safety before attempting to kill them all. She couldn't help thinking that a weapons scientist would never be able to make peaceful, pro-social discoveries and she was wasting her time trying. She couldn't help thinking that her father was an evil man, and she was a part of his legacy, and he was a part of her, and there was no way to escape that.

Unfortunately, it turns out you can't run from your thoughts. There were many nights that Carol lay awake overthinking every stray comment anyone had made to her all day. Sometimes when she did sleep, she dreamed of Khan and her father, her father and Khan, laughing together as they plotted murder. It wasn't healthy, Carol knew that, but she just couldn't get past it.

So when the date rolled around that could have been her father's sixty-seventh birthday, Carol broke out a bottle of whiskey, poured the whole thing into a Starfleet-issued canteen, waited until the night shift started, and snuck into the forward lounge to get blasted watching the stars. She found the lounge deserted with most of its lights dimmed, just one or two left on so any cleaning crews wouldn't trip. Through the viewscreen she could see the globe they were currently orbiting, its clouds swirling in alternating patterns of pink and red as the _Enterprise_ slipped from the day side to the night side and around again. Carol settled on one of the soft green couches with her canteen and started to unscrew the cap.

Captain James T. Kirk's voice came from the corner, casually remarking, "Evening, Dr. Marcus."

Carol jumped, swore, and almost spilled the canteen in her surprise. "Uh, evening, Captain Kirk," she managed to answer. Kirk stood up from the chair that had been hidden by shadows and came over to sit on the same couch, leaning back against the armrest so he could still face her.

"I know the closing time was officially half an hour ago, but I like to see where the ship is, even when I'm off duty. Did you come here to watch the stars, too?" he asked.

"Something like that," Carol admitted. "I didn't think I'd be able to sleep tonight, and all the lounges that are open at this hour are always swarmed with off-duty folks, so I thought this would be a harmless little compromise."

"Seems reasonable," the captain said, smiling. He jokingly added, "Gosh, though, this is embarrassing, a captain getting caught breaking the rules. I hope you won't report me to Commander Spock."

Carol managed to smile. "I won't tell on you if you don't tell on me, captain."

"Deal," Kirk said, "and since we're in cahoots on this, I think you'd better call me Jim for the evening."

"Okay, Jim," Carol nodded. "And you can call me Carol, since we're off duty." She was mildly annoyed that her planned evening of solitude and liquor was thwarted, but then again, a little company might take her mind off things. Moreover, she liked Captain Kirk. They'd commiserated while they both recuperated at Starfleet General – her from her broken hip, him from his untimely death – although they hadn't spent much time together since the voyage began. Still, he'd always been friendly to her, and he could be funny, and unlike some men on this vessel, he hadn't taken a deep space mission as an excuse to start making passes at every woman aboard. "So, should we sit and watch the stars together, Jim?" she asked, mentally brushing away thoughts of his dating history.

"Maybe," Jim said, "or maybe you should tell me what you have in that canteen, and whether you're planning to share."

So they each had a swig, him drinking from the cap while she drank straight from the canteen. "That's not bad stuff," Jim said, "Where'd you get it?" And they each took another swig, then another, then another.

The liquor did its work quickly, starting a conversation that flowed and rambled and kept growing. Neither of them truly realized that they were scooting closer to one another with every successive shot of whiskey, leaning in more as they poured, and laughing louder and longer at each other's jokes. They just kept talking. The subjects ranged from the foods they missed from home, to the upcoming destinations they were excited for, to the fact that Jim's nephew, age three, had recently uttered his first curse word. Jim swore that the fact he'd accidentally cursed in a video message he sent for the kid's birthday had absolutely nothing to do with the child learning such language. Carol spluttered at the thought and declared, "Why Jim, you're a corrupting influence!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm funny, though," Jim smirked. "Kids love me." Jim shook the canteen to see how much whiskey was left, and asked, "Sheesh, Carol, why were you sneaking around with this much contraband liquor all alone? Were you really planning to drink this yourself?"

"Yes," she said honestly. "I was planning to drink until I forgot my own name."

"And then get up in time to go on duty tomorrow? That sounds like the kind of terrible plan I would come up with, not you," Jim joked, but his smile died when he realized that Carol wasn't laughing. "Seriously, Carol, what were you trying to forget?"

With her mind floating in the warm glow of drunkenness, Carol told the truth. "The fact that today would've been my father's birthday," she said, "and, more generally, I'm trying to forget who my father was. What he did." Her voice choked on the last phrase, and she hunched her shoulders and turned away slightly, blinking at the portside viewscreens that showed nothing but the steady glow of starlight.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry, Carol, I shouldn't have brought it up," Jim said. It was obvious from the tremble in her shoulders that she was trying not to cry. He tentatively reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into the touch.

Jim scooted closer to Carol and put his arm around her. "Listen, you might not believe this, but I understand what it's like to want to forget something so badly that you don't care what else you lose in the process. I've finished my share of whiskey bottles without help. If you want to be alone, I'll leave. But if you want to cry, I can sit here and let you do that. Or if you want to keep drinking, I'll drink with you."

Carol looked at him, tears in her eyes, and said, "Thanks." Then she quickly looked away, back towards the viewscreens. "But really, all three of those sound like bad ideas," she said. The fact that she'd dragged a captain into her self-destruction was sinking in, and bouncing around her brain, getting amplified by the booze and her already low mood until it seemed like the end of the world had come. Suddenly distraught, she said, "We're really in trouble no matter what. Either you leave and I sit here and get drunker and then I'm hungover and ready to die tomorrow. Or you stay and I start crying properly and I stay up all night and am exhausted and ready to die tomorrow. Or you stay and we keep drinking and then we're both hungover and ready to die tomorrow. I'm on duty at 0800 and you, you're never off duty." She groaned at the thought of the early morning, and Jim gave her what he hoped was a soothing one-armed hug. She let her head drop back and rest on his arm, and squeezed her eyes shut to try to clear her head. _What the hell was I thinking getting drunk with the captain, I must've been thinking something, right?_

"Hey," Jim said suddenly, "You know what I have in my quarters?"

The question derailed Carol's doom-and-gloom train of thought. "Uh, do I get three guesses?" she asked.

"I meant that rhetorically. I'll tell you what I have. Five doses of Nohol."

Carol sat up, his arm dropping from her shoulders, and turned around to face him. "You keep Nohol in your quarters? Isn't it supposed to be by emergency prescription only?"

"Yeah, well, I'm the captain. There could be an emergency any minute that I would have to sober up for. And Bones knows how much I like to have a nightcap or two before bed, so he gave me a few 'emergency prescriptions' and let me hoard them."

Carol could hardly believe the audacity of the plot. "That's, that's against, so many regulations, Jim!"

Jim shrugged. "There's perks to being the captain and there's perks to being best friends with the chief medical officer. And there's perks to being on a five-year mission where my superior officers are only encountered three times a year, max." Carol was still staring at him. "What?" he asked.

"I, uh, well, why are you even telling me this?"

"Because," Jim said, "You and I could slip up to my quarters right now, take one dose each, and avoid being hungover tomorrow. You get to have your night of drinking to forget, I get to comfort you, and then tomorrow the ship gets to have both of us operating at full capacity." He smiled and leaned back with his hands behind his head, satisfied with his brilliant plan.

Carol actually giggled like a teenager. "Captain Kirk, did you just invite me to your private rooms?"

Jim had the decency to look guilty. "Uh, yes, technically. But only for medicinal purposes. I'll be a perfect gentleman. Scout's honor."

"Were you ever a Boy Scout?" Carol asked skeptically.

Kirk looked up and squinted one eye. "I dunno. Don't think I was. But you should still take my offer."

Carol laughed nervously. "What if a crew member sees us heading to your quarters and gets the wrong idea?"

"What, you mean one of my crew members?" Jim said. "I'll swear my whole crew to secrecy. I'm the captain, remember?"

"How could I forget," Carol said. She crossed her legs and drummed her fingers along her thigh. She needed to consider her options clearly, which meant she should've started considering them about four shots of whiskey ago. Right now the plan all seemed very funny, but something told her it shouldn't.

Jim stood up and stretched, then hiccupped, then laughed. He turned around and straightened his shirt. "Come on, Carol. This is a better plan than yours and you know it. Let's go get sobered up." He held out a hand to help her to her feet.

Carol hesitated, trying to remember why this was a bad idea. Then Jim winked at her and said, "C'mon."

She took his hand and stood up.


	4. Chapter 4

Carol stumbled getting off the turbolift, and Jim seamlessly caught her. The officer's deck was deserted at that hour – it was nearly midnight– so she took a chance on steadying herself against his arm as they walked. They made it to Jim's door without seeing a soul. He tapped the unlock code without even breaking stride, then gestured for Carol to enter first. He stood just inside the doorway, blocking the hallway's view of the inside of his quarters, until the doors swished shut. "See? No one saw us," he said triumphantly.

"You're just a bit too good at hiding the fact you're bringing woman to your room, Jim," Carol teased. He laughed, but she felt color rising in her cheeks. _Since when do I tease James T. Kirk?_ she wondered.

"Well, at least I didn't lure you here under false pretenses. I've got what you came for, right here," he said as he reached under his desk. Carol heard a small _click_ , and a panel popped open on the wall.

"You have a secret compartment?" she asked, surprised.

"Mm-hmm," Jim said. "Officially, it's a wall safe for the captain to store any top-secret things he may have. I mostly use it to hide my stash of booze and Nohol. Speaking of which." He opened up a small bottle and tapped two pills into the lid, holding it out so she could take the first. "One for you, one for me," he said. "Let me get you a cup of water to wash it down."

Carol glanced around the cabin, noticing the desk, the dining table and two chairs, the decorated screen dividing the sleep alcove from the common area, the attached bathroom where Jim had gone. "Nice place you got here," she said as he emerged with two cups of water. "I wish I were a captain."

Jim grinned. "The quarters are pretty sweet. But you can't be captain of this ship. I'm still using it. You have to get your own."

Carol threw up her hands in an exaggerated expression of denial. "No one's trying to take your baby away from you! I just like the rooms."

Jim laughed and said, "OK, as long as we're clear. Now come on, be a good patient and take your Nohol." He handed her one of the cups, then lifted his and said, "Your good health, Carol," before popping a pill in his own mouth and draining the cup of water. Carol raised her glass, then swallowed the pill as quickly as she could.

"How long does it take to work?" she asked.

Jim shrugged. "Not long. But you'll want to be sitting down when it hits. There's usually about three minutes of dizziness while your system tries to figure out where the hell the alcohol went." He swiveled one of the chairs away from the dining table and waved for her to sit down. She complied. "Can I get you anything, while we're waiting? Did you eat yet?"

"I had my dinner rations, but that was, uh, a few hours ago," she said. "What do you have?"

Jim opened a cabinet in the wall of the dining nook, surveyed the contents, and said, "Popcorn?"

"I'd eat popcorn," Carol said.

"Good!" Jim said, visibly relieved. He set a bowl on the table and poured popcorn from a bag. It was pre-popped, but looked real – not replicated. _He must have brought it from Earth_ , Carol realized. She carefully picked up a small handful and placed the kernels in her mouth one by one.

"Mmm! This is delicious. I haven't had real popcorn in a year."

"I keep this stash for when I'm homesick. Nothing reminds a person of Iowa, the good parts and the bad, quite like corn," Jim explained. He took the seat across from her.

"I'll try not to gobble up too much of your stash," Carol promised.

Jim laughed. "Oh, don't worry about it. I don't mind sharing food with a guest."

Carol smiled back at him. "You know, I haven't actually been to Iowa. It's funny, I joined Starfleet to go to different planets but I never even saw all there was to see on my – whoa," she cut off suddenly when the room started to spin. "Uh, I think I'm sick."

"It's just the Nohol kicking in," Jim said confidently. "Put your head down, it helps."

Carol obediently laid her head on the table. "Why aren't you feeling it?" she asked.

"I am," the captain said. "But I'm used to it. I just close my eyes and enjoy the rush."

Carol shut her eyes and held on to the edges of the table, hoping that the nausea was not as serious as it seemed. "Oof, this is almost worse than being hungover," she moaned.

"It's over faster, I promise," Jim said. "Breathe deeply."

The seconds dragged on and on. The dizziness got worse. Carol had already opened her mouth to tell Jim that this wasn't working and they'd better call sickbay, when suddenly something _clicked_ inside her head. She opened her eyes and sat up, no longer sick. "See?" Jim said. "What'd I tell you? Over in three minutes. How do you feel?"

Carol tried to get her bearings. _You just got blasted, burst into tears in front of your captain, and then went back to his place to take drugs illegally. What the hell were you thinking?_ She asked herself. "Well, I'm not drunk anymore," she commented out loud. Choosing her words carefully, she added, "And now I'm realizing that I behaved badly while I was."

Jim shook his head slightly. "Don't worry about it. No one saw but me, and I'm used to being the one who behaves badly. If anyone ever compiled a list of the things I've done while drunk, Starfleet would probably court-martial me. Again. Though actually, I wouldn't be in Starfleet if I hadn't gotten drunk once and hit on a cadet."

Carol blinked. "That sounds like one hell of a story," was all she could think to say.

"Yeah, I'll have to tell it to you one time. But more importantly, are you feeling any better?"

Carol put her elbow on the table and rested her head on her hand. "Not really, and I probably won't ever feel completely better. There's days I can avoid thinking about my father, and that helps. But today wasn't one and tomorrow probably won't be either."

Jim leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, clasped his hands and looked at Carol seriously. "I'm sorry that you've been through so much in the last two years. I wish, every day, there were a way to undo some of the bad things that happen to nice people in this galaxy. But I haven't found one yet," he said.

"Yeah, if only it were that simple. I wish we could discover a way to make everyone be good to one another," Carol said, "For now, though, I guess all we can do is try to hold on."

"Too true," Jim agreed. They sat in silence for a few moments, each one taking a little popcorn in turn and savoring the salty taste. "You know," Jim said, "I've been through crazy shit too, and whenever I get too upset about it, Bones always tells me to focus on creating positive memories. He says it's good for my sanity. Maybe that's what you need, to end this night on a high note. A positive experience."

Carol was nervous, suddenly, and not quite sure why. "Did you have something in mind?" she asked, her heart thumping strangely.

"I have a suggestion," Jim said. He stood up and slid open a panel in the wall above the table. Carol was surprised to feel a rush of cool air.

"Captains get refrigeration units in their quarters?" she asked incredulously.

"Only the really heroic ones," Jim said, his voice muffled slightly because he was physically leaning into the cool compartment. "When they were repairing the _Enterprise_ , engineering corps offered me some extra perks as a 'thank you for dying of radiation poisoning in the line of duty' gift." He rummaged around the compartment for a moment. "Here we go," he said, pulling out a black bag. He opened the drawstring top and drew out a rectangular tin, about 25 cm long x 10 cm wide.

Carol's eyes widened at the sight. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked.

"Yup. I brought it from my favorite shop on Earth, in Brussels. I've been hiding it since we took flight, so you cannot tell anyone," Jim said with a conspiratorial wink.

"And you're going to let me have a piece?" Carol asked, hardly daring to believe it.

"That's the idea," he said.

"Why?"

"Because you need to make a positive memory tonight, and this is the quickest way I know to make a person happy," Jim admitted. "It works better than liquor, too." He slid the top off the tin and set it on the table, moving the popcorn aside to make room. He peeled back a layer of shiny foil to reveal the treasure. "You can pick your own," he told Carol.

Carol stared at the contents of the tin. In a red-tinted plastic tray, two dozen tiny cups held beautiful, glorious pieces of chocolate.

Jim added, "There's a map on the lid, if you want to know what flavor the filling is."

Carol took the lid and carefully examined her choices. She noticed that two of the openings in the plastic were empty. "You've had this box for a year and you've only eaten two? If it were mine, they wouldn't have lasted a month."

"I save them for really special occasions," Jim said, with a sly, charming smile on his face. "Like when Carol Marcus visits me."

Carol smiled back instinctively and said, "I'm honored." She looked at the map again. "Can I have the chocolate-covered marzipan, please?"

Jim's smile broadened. "Of course! An excellent choice. How would you like it?

Carol raised her eyebrows and asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you want to eat it all in one bite? Or nibble it? Or suck on it until the chocolate melts?" Jim said with a wink. "When you're talking about the only twenty-two genuine, non-replicated chocolates that exist in the next million miles, you have to enjoy each one to the fullest."

Carol chuckled, "You're right. I should consider this very carefully." She stared at the chocolates – they looked so yummy, her mouth was watering already. An idea occurred to her, and immediately her better judgment started hollering inside her mind. _You CANNOT say that one out loud, whatever else you do, don't – "_ Actually, I think I want to have it fed to me," her worst judgment said out loud.

The statement hung in the air for a moment. She decided the only way out was through. She looked straight into James Kirk's eyes and crooked a smile. Her face started to flush. She had time to think, _huh, his eyes are even bluer than mine._

Then Jim laughed, looking around the room as if for some sign that he was dreaming, and said, "Well, all right, Carol, if you insist." He picked up the chocolate in question, a tiny box-shaped dark one. "Close your eyes and open your mouth," he told Carol. She complied, still wondering _am I really doing this? Isn't this a terrible idea?_ Too late to back out, though. She felt his hand brushing against her cheek, soft fingers placing the candy on her tongue.

She closed her mouth and let the chilled piece warm up against her tongue, before licking it to get a proper taste of the smooth chocolate. She bit one corner to let the stiffer sweetness of the marzipan out of its shell, then sucked on the treat and let the two tastes combine. She tried to say "mmm" but it came out more like a moan. The almonds and the sugar and the cacao blended together in a way that no machine could ever reproduce, creating a silky symphony that made her simultaneously want to savor the treat for an hour and gulp it down right now. She settled for holding it in her mouth, gently sucking until it softened almost to complete mush, then chewing it slowly and swallowing it piece by piece. A few more moans of appreciation escaped her lips as she ate.

When she opened her eyes, Jim was standing above her and grinning at her knowingly. "I'd ask if you liked it, but I think I already know," he said.

"Best candy I've ever had," Carol admitted. "Absolutely delicious. Are you going to have one?"

"No, no, I'm not the one who was sad. I'll save the rest for the next time I really need one," he said as he turned to rewrap the foil and replace the lid of the tin. He slipped the tin back into its bag. "Right now, I'm happy just seeing how deeply you appreciated that piece," he added as he leaned across the table to put the bag back in the refrigeration compartment.

Carol felt her blush returning, and her pulse quickened. _You probably just gave him the show of the year,_ she realized. _You couldn't be flirting harder if you were actually trying. And you're not even drunk._

 _Right, then. Time to go home._ "Uh, well, thank you very much for the chocolate. This has definitely been a 'positive memory,' as you put it. But uh, I think I really should go. It's already pretty early in the morning," she stammered.

Jim turned back around. "Okay," he said, "This has been fun. Thanks for including me in your evening of drinking and savoring chocolate." He gave her that oh-so-charming grin that she'd seen him give a thousand times, yet it was suddenly three times as distracting as usual. He took a step and was suddenly standing closer to her chair than was strictly necessary, too.

As she stood up to go, not breaking eye contact, she somehow got one of her feet caught on his and lost her balance. He grabbed her forearms to keep her from falling. And suddenly they were very, very close, and his hands were warm on her and his smile was lighting up his eyes and she could feel the muscles in his arms under her palms, and she leaned forward and kissed him. Then he kissed back and when their tongues met it tasted like popcorn mixed with chocolate. She leaned against him and he was so solid, so strong that she threw her arms around his neck to pull him closer. He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her tight. When she came up for air she said, "We shouldn't, should we?"

He answered her with another kiss, then he leaned down to nibble her ear. He whispered, "Only if you don't want to. So, do you?"

She thought, _I should say no, and leave, and never speak of this again._ But instead, she put a hand on his ass.

After they'd been kissing for ages – or maybe only a minute - Jim gently spun her around and distracted her with pecks on her neck while he unfastened her shirt. He slipped a hand inside and cupped one of her breasts and whispered in her ear, "Tell me what you want me to do for you." There was hardly any talking after that, except for "how should we" and "can I" and "do you" and other phrases that meant, whatever happened next, they weren't going to stop.

Afterwards, Carol lay awake staring up at the shelf over the bed, which incredibly held honest-to-goodness, antique, paper books. As she overthought every part of the evening that had led to sex, she had one consolation. _Whatever it did for his reputation, all that womanizing certainly made him pretty good at this._


	5. Chapter 5

"What do you have to say about it?" Carol asked.

Jim's voice was softer and quieter than usual when he said, "Nothing. I came here to see how you're feeling about it."

Carol shrugged. "Do you check on all of your partners the next day?" she asked.

"Not all of them. Just the ones who seem like they were upset."

Carol rolled her eyes. "You take a lot of crying women to bed, do you?" she asked, unable to keep a little hostility out of her voice. "Is that how you've managed to rack up so many conquests? What am I, number two hundred or number three hundred?"

Jim looked at her, shock and hurt in his eyes. "Listen, I only came here to see if you were OK. There's no need to drag everyone I've ever slept with into this, especially considering we're not even in the same solar system as any of them."

Carol was suddenly sorry for how defensive she was being. She asked herself, _what is wrong with you? Would you prefer he never speak to you again? Grow up._

Out loud, she asked, "Except me?" And tried to smile, to soften her tone.

Jim looked wary, not sure of the intent behind her question. He slowly smiled and said, "Yes, right, present company excepted, we're not in the same solar system as any of my sex partners. And you're not number two hundred. You're number sixty-four."

Carol absorbed that information. "Sixty-four? Really?"

The smile was a smirk now. "What, too many or too few?" he asked.

 _Sixty-four and he's not even thirty_ , she thought. _On the other hand, he's still taking the time to see if the sixty-fourth is feeling all right about last night._ "I think you're a better judge of that than I am," she answered honestly.

Jim shrugged. "What can I say, I like people. I like sex. I know I developed a certain reputation back at the Academy, and I deserved most of it . . . though Uhura once accused me of sleeping with non-humanoids and I'd like to officially deny that particular rumor—" He noticed Carol's raised eyebrows and hastily added, "Which is neither here nor there. But anyway, I'm a captain now, I'm yourcaptain, and I'm going to be living with the same 400 people for the next four and a half years. I can't be cavalier about hookups. So when a woman sleeps with me and then starts avoiding me, I have to come ambush her in her quarters – and I know that it seems ridiculous – but I have to figure out," he paused and took a deep breath, "whether you are OK."

Carol tried to pick an angle of that ramble that she could get at. "Who says I've been avoiding you?" she asked.

"I woke up and you were gone."

"I had to go back to my own quarters before the whole deck realized I was there. I'm not in charge of how heavily you sleep," Carol protested.

"It takes effort to crawl over a sleeping person, get dressed in the dark, and leave without waking them up. Believe me, I've done it," Jim retorted. "And then you didn't talk to me all day."

"We don't work together," Carol said, crossing her arms. "And I don't control where I'm assigned."

"You didn't send me any messages."

"I was working!"

"You had to submit an incident report, and you left my name off the 'attention' list," Jim pointed out. "Spock had to forward the report about a science lab being out of commission. You actually breached protocol to avoid communicating with me."

 _Oh, crap_. "You're right," she mumbled. "That was not very mature of me. I just . . . I mean, you fell asleep and I lay there awake and thought about the fact that I had started crying over my dead father and then fallen into bed with my commanding officer. I ended up mentally listing all the reasons we shouldn't have done that, and I got myself all upset. Then I was embarrassed all day, having to deal first with Commander Spock and then Doctor McCoy, not knowing which of your friends you might have told."

Jim looked confused. "Why would I tell anyone?"

"To brag?"

Jim shook his head. "No offense, but don't flatter yourself. Bones got tired of hearing my stories years ago, and there's no way I'd admit to Spock that I had a fling with a junior officer. You know XOs technically can order captains not to have relationships that might run a risk of compromising team dynamics? The last thing I need is a lecture on that from Spock, after the way I've teased him for the thing he has with Uhura."

"Oh," Carol said, but she was thinking _since when do you assume all the worst things about people?_ The last dregs of a defensive attitude drained out of her head

Jim was looking at her oddly. "Did you tell anyone?" he asked.

Carol scoffed, "What? Why would I tell anybody that I'd slept with the captain? That's hardly the kind of thing a person should blurt out on a Starfleet vessel."

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't know. Maybe you're the kind of woman who likes to brag that you got the captain drunk, followed him home, and successfully seduced him by eating chocolate," he said. His smirk was back again, though he quickly added, "Not that I'm saying I know any women like that. Or that seduction by chocolate is bad. Or that I'm blaming this on the alcohol. I was as sober as you by the time we went to bed."

 _Should I let him keep going? This is getting funny,_ Carol thought. She opted for saying, "I think we can agree that neither of us wants the story of last night to become public knowledge."

"Right. Yes. Good," Jim said. "Uh . . . but I'm not sorry it happened, either. It was fun." He looked at Carol hopefully.

Carol thought she might, just maybe, be blushing. "It was fun," she agreed, "Which is good, because if I'm going to do something impulsive and imprudent, I like to at least enjoy it."

Jim snorted. "That's always been my philosophy towards impulsive, imprudent decisions, too," he said.

"Really? I couldn't tell," Carol said. Then more seriously, she said, "I'm sorry I yelled when I first came home. I shouldn't be acting like we did something awful."

Jim waved that off. "No, don't worry about it, I shouldn't have sneaked in here without telling you I was coming. I'll just consider myself lucky you didn't call security on me," he said.

"Right," Carol said. "Uh, so, do you have more you want to talk about?" The conversation was making her feel less embarrassed, but her headache was only getting worse and her bed felt softer than it ever had.

"Just one thing, and then I promise I'll let you be alone," Jim said. He sat up a little straighter and clasped his hands, glanced around the room nervously, and worked up his nerve. "Do . . . do you think last night was a one-time deal? Or do you want there to be . . . do you want us to have a thing?"

 _Well that doesn't qualify as the most romantic question I've ever heard,_ Carol thought. Furthermore, she had no idea how to answer. "I'd have to think about it," she said, "I mean, in close quarters like this vessel, there's a lot of ways a romance could go wrong and blow up in our faces." _And the last thing I need is to have my captain be my ex-boyfriend._ "But, I really liked spending time with you last night, and of course I enjoyed fucking you. So . . . maybe we could spend more time together? If that's what you want, I mean." _Sheesh, add that speech to the list of unromantic ways to ask a person to date you._

Jim nodded, and a smile spread across his face. "I'd like that," he said, enthusiasm shining through. "Fair warning though, if we're going to 'date' officially, I do have to tell Spock about it. I know I play it fast and loose with most regulations, but there are very good reasons why my executive officer might need to know if I'm making decisions based on a personal relationship with a crew member."

Carol pursed her lips and considered the idea. "I can live with that," she said. "But, uh, maybe you could edit the story a little bit, to avoid shocking him? Maybe tell him you and I had a drink last night, and are planning to meet for dinner tomorrow evening."

Jim thought that one over. "I think he'd accept that," he said. "Dinner tomorrow, then?"

* * *

 **Happy Star Trek Day, all! I personally celebrated by rewatching The Man Trap. Funny that the first scene that ever aired involved McCoy asking whether Kirk bribes women into liking him...because he suggested bringing flowers to an old girlfriend. Those two old softies.**


	6. Chapter 6

Their first official date was also in the captain's quarters, for reasons of logistics. The captain brought his own replicated dinner up, then comm'ed a yeoman to claim he'd spilled his food, would clean it up himself, but needed a replacement dinner replicated and delivered quickly, please. The yeoman didn't come into the room, so she didn't see Carol standing in the corner. The food, plus a simple command of "Computer, lights at 80%," set a passably romantic mood. "I think you missed your calling as a spy," Carol told Jim.

Their second date was a walk through the ship's botany department. Jim joked that he got the idea from an old romance novel where most of the action took place in the gardens of a country estate. The experience on a starship was rather different, since half of the flowers were behind glass to avoid accidental poisonings, but it passed well enough. Carol showed Jim a case with petunias and said, "Those are my favorites."

"That's good to know," Jim said. "They're pretty."

"Where I grew up, we had a tiny little garden, and we used to grow petunias. I would make little bouquets of them for the table, and my father would tie one in my hair sometimes," she said, smiling at the memories. "Which ones do you like best?" she asked.

"Daffodils. They're the only ones I'm not allergic to," Jim explained.

After the walk, Carol led him to the right compartment and jammed the door signal so they could have a quick encounter next to a glass case marked " _narcissus pseudonarcissus, origin: Earth, European landmass_." Kirk didn't tell Spock about that last part.

It was their fourth date – a game of 3D chess in a certain rec room that was officially closed for cleaning – before Carol decided to discuss the future. "I think you should know," she said, "That I don't think I'm going to finish the five-year mission on the _Enterprise_."

Jim took his eyes off the board, along with his mind. "What makes you say that?"

Carol took a breath and spoke with care. "Starfleet has always had an identity crisis. Are we explorers, or are we warriors? You know all too well which side of that my father chose. But you might not know how long ago he chose it." She swallowed the lump that always rose in her throat when she remembered her father. "I loved science from first grade on up, and he encouraged me to explore and learn and love the natural world. Then when I was getting ready to enroll in university, he insisted I had to study physics and become a weapons expert. He said that we could serve together, but I had to major in something that would be useful to the military, and 'don't you want to be in Starfleet, sweetheart?'" Carol swallowed again, because the lump was becoming a bad taste. "So that's what I did. But I never loved physics as much as I loved biology."

"I wouldn't have guessed that," Jim said, "You're so good at physics."

Carol shrugged. "I can't say I don't like it, solving puzzles, figuring out new and interesting ways to make things explode. But you never forget your first love, right?"

"I guess not," Jim grinned. "What does all of this have to do with your not staying on the _Enterprise_ , though?"

"I'm coming to that," Carol said, "See, about two months ago, I was sitting and thinking over all the ways my life isn't what I dreamed it would be, and I realized that it's not too late to change any of it. I'm only twenty-nine. So I did a little research on what it would take to go back to school and get a second doctorate in biology. I ended up transmitting a few applications. If I'm accepted, I'd want to head back to earth to start later this year."

"This year?" Jim said, dismayed. "But that's . . . very soon."

"At the time, I was thinking 'the sooner the better.' There wasn't much that was keeping me here except my career. I didn't really think that we might end up developing a relationship," Carol explained, slightly apologetically but not sheepishly. "I'll understand if you want to break this off, not get too involved with someone who might be jumping ship pretty soon."

"All right, then," seemed like the only possible response. Jim leaned on the table and looked at the chessboard. He made a move, let Carol take hers, then made another move, but his heart wasn't really in it. After a few rounds of increasingly nonstrategic moves, he said, "Well, if going back to school is what you want, I certainly won't stand in the way. For now, though, aren't we having fun?"

"Definitely," Carol said, moving one of her bishops.

"There we are, then. I don't like cutting things off because of what might happen. I'd rather wait to see what comes, then come up with responses as I go along. That's how I live, that's how I work, and that's how I'd like to handle this," Jim said firmly.

"All right," Carol said, "We can do that." Then she carefully moved her queen and said, "Checkmate."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello readers! I want to quickly thank you for reading my humble story, especially those of you who have sent feedback.**

* * *

"What's your favorite book?" Jim asked one morning while they were sitting across from each other during breakfast in Mess Hall 2. They were both in uniform, and other people were around, so they weren't holding hands or leaning in close. They were just talking – or at least, that would be how it seemed to anyone who didn't get close enough to notice that their feet were touching under the table.

Carol drummed her fingernails along the handle of her coffee mug. "I don't have one, anymore."

"Anymore? What was it before?" Jim asked. He wiggled his toes against the arch of her foot as punctuation.

Carol nudged his toes away, brushing hers against his instep, and said, "My favorite used to be A Separate Paradise. But it's set during the Eugenics Wars, and I haven't been able to look at it since, you know, the incident."

"I don't think I know that one," Jim said. "What's it about?" He tried to slip his foot under hers, but their boots were too stiff.

"It's a love story," Carol said, catching his wandering foot between both of hers. "It's about a happy couple trying to survive and stay together in trying times. Not the most original setup, but the author makes you care about the characters like they're your long-lost best friends. And they end up having children, so you get to picture the children growing up, and you fall in love with the whole family. By the end of the book, you're feeling every tragedy and triumph like they're happening to you in real life."

Jim nodded and said, "Actually, that sounds pretty good. The unoriginal setup doesn't mean anything. I had a teacher in high school who said 'every real-life war needs a fictional love story to make it tolerable and relatable to future history students.'" He took a bite of his allegedly-cranberry muffin and reflected that the replicators were never going to get cranberries right.

"Yeah, well," Carol said with a sigh, "I tried to re-read Separate Paradise while I was laid up with my hip healing, but it just turned my stomach thinking about how close the Augments came to taking over the world."

Jim tried to deftly pull his foot out from between hers, did it wrong, and kicked Carol in the shins. "Ouch!" she hissed quietly.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry," Jim said, taking a chance on reaching under the table to pat her knee. "I think we're wearing the wrong shoes for footsie."

Carol smiled ruefully and said, "You know, you'd think two certified geniuses could've figured that out sooner."

Jim changed the subject by saying, "So, now we need to find you a new favorite book."

"Do we?" Carol asked. _And who's "we?" Does spending time together for less than a month make you and I into a "we?"_

Jim grinned. "Definitely. A person just shouldn't have to go through life without a favorite book for support."

"Is that so?" Carol said, tilting her head in curiosity. "What's your favorite book?"

"I love so many that it's hard to pick a favorite," he said. "Technically, the one I've reread the most is a play, not a book, but I read it in a literature class originally, so I guess it counts. It's called Measure for Measure."

Carol raised her eyebrows and asked, "Isn't that a Shakespeare?"

"Yup. It's the one where a duke wants to ban premarital sex, but he doesn't want all the blame to come down on his head when that won't work, so he leaves someone else in charge of enforcing it," Kirk said. "It has really funny parts, and a whole bunch of sly messages about what makes a good leader."

"Huh," Carol said, picking at what was left of her scrambled allegedly-eggs. "So you're saying our favorite book is 700 years old?"

Jim chuckled. "Well, like I said, I love lots of different books. That's just one of my favorites." He took another bite of the alleged muffin.

"I wouldn't have guessed you were so old-fashioned," Carol teased, "Especially since that's a play about chastity, and you've screwed sixty-four people in the last . . . what, twelve years?"

Jim groaned and clunked his mug down. "I should never have told you the number," he grumbled. "This'll teach me to be honest with women."

Carol smirked and said, "Yeah, didn't your mother ever tell you not to give away too much information on the first date?"

"Yeah, yeah, alright, I'm a strumpet, can we get back to the subject here?" Jim said with a laugh.

Carol burst out giggling. "A 'strumpet'?" she laughed. "I don't think even my great-grandmother would call you that."

"Good thing I'm not your great-grandmother," he said, clearly suppressing giggles of his own.

Carol guffawed, then coughed over a piece of egg and gasped for breath. "You can't make me laugh this hard when my mouth's full! It's no fair," she scolded.

"Sorry! I'll stop being funny. Let's see. What can we pick to be your new favorite book?" Jim lifted his mug to take a drink, then held it for a long moment, tapping his index finger against the sturdy ceramic.

"I don't know," Carol said. "I didn't have a second-favorite." She glanced at her watch and realized, with a start, that she was due in the lab in fifteen minutes. _How have we been talking for forty minutes already?_ Time really flew when spent with Jim Kirk.

"We'll have to pick one scientifically," Jim said, with a faux-serious tone. "Which do you like more: happy endings, or tragedies?"

"Happy endings, definitely," Carol said, as she spread some butter on her rapidly cooling toast and took a bite.

"Is historical fiction still a genre you enjoy?"

"I guess so. It's fun to think about how people used to live," Carol said as she swallowed another bite of toast.

"And do you like romances in general?" Jim said, "or was it only that one?"

Carol thought that one over. "I like stories about relationships surviving despite insurmountable odds," she said, "But the story can be about epic friendships or true love, it doesn't matter that much."

"I see," Jim said. "That's good to know. Based on this information I can confidently say," he said, laying his palms on the table for emphasis, "That I have no idea what your new favorite book is going to be. But I'll find you just the one, I promise."

Carol finished her toast and wiped the crumbs from her fingers. "Now, haven't you ever learned not to make promises you can't keep?" she said, only half-joking.

"Yes, I have," Jim said, more solemnly than she'd expected. "But I'm going to keep this one. Are you finished with your breakfast?"

"Indeed," Carol said. "You?"

"Yup. Time to go start our day," Jim said. He took her tray and started stacking up their plates and separating the silverware from the compost materials for easier cleanup. In a whisper, he added, "Can I see you tonight for dessert, in my room?"

Carol lowered her voice to answer, "Sure. 19:00?"

"Make it 20:15. I have to take care of a couple of things first."

"It's a date," Carol whispered. Then in a normal tone she added, "Have a good day. Stay out of trouble."

"You, too," Jim said with a smile.


	8. Chapter 8

Carol decided to doll herself up a little bit for this date, for a change. She braided her hair and changed into a knee-length grey skirt and wraparound green shirt – the nicest civilian outfit she had with her on the ship. She even dug out her much-neglected makeup kit and put on some lipstick, for a novelty. But, after three minutes of wondering which earrings to wear, she started to feel silly. _It's not like he doesn't like you when you aren't all gussied up, girl_ , she reminded herself. _As long as you're willing to take your clothes off._ She left both pairs of earrings in her jewelry box.

At 20:15 she was in the hallway of the officers' quarters, casually looking left and right before she rang the door chime. "Come in," she heard Jim's voice say. The doors swished open. She stepped inside.

Jim swiveled his desk chair around to face her, and smiled broadly. "You look hot," he said as he stood up.

Carol giggled and said, "Thanks. You look like you're still in your uniform."

Jim put a hand on her back to pull her in for a kiss. "I'll take it off soon," he promised, "But I've been too busy to change." He grinned again.

"Why do you look so pleased with yourself?" Carol asked.

The grin got even bigger. "I found your new favorite book," Jim said proudly.

"What, since this morning?" Carol said skeptically. "You can't have looked very far."

Jim gave an exaggerated pout. "For your information, I had the computer search its library and compile an index of historical fiction books tagged for either familial love, romance, or friendship. I sorted by historical setting and eliminated any Eugenics Wars stuff. Then I looked up A Separate Paradise, read it to get a sense of the tone, and skimmed through the first and last chapters of all the other books on the list. This is the first one that met all the criteria." He proudly handed over his PADD, which had a book from the ship's computer library pulled up.

The cover art showed a teenage girl and a young boy with a toddler on his back, climbing up a rooftop. "The Silver Sword," Carol read. "I've never heard of this one."

"It's about Polish siblings trying to survive after their parents are kidnapped by Nazis. But I checked, and it has a happy ending," Jim explained. "It's pretty old – it was published before humans even knew how to get to the moon – and it was written for a younger audience, but I think you'll like it anyway. And if you don't, there were twenty-five other promising hits on the computer's list, so we can keep looking."

 _He's still saying "we,"_ Carol noticed. "So, since breakfast this morning, you read my previous favorite book and skimmed through twenty-five others to pick out one you thought I'd like?" she asked, still a little incredulous.

"Yup," Jim said, "I do these kinds of things for the women I," he paused for breath before adding, "Like very much and want to impress."

 _Oh my God, did he really mean to say "like"?_ "Well, consider me duly impressed," she said with a smile. "I'll have to read this one and let you know."

"I look forward to the verdict," Jim said. "Now, let me do something about this uniform." He pulled his shirt over his head, and Carol set the PADD down to enjoy the view properly. "Is this better?" he asked with a wink.

"Mmhmm, much better," she said as she stepped forward and laid her hands on his shoulders. "But you'd look better sitting down," she added with a slight push. He obediently stepped backward and sat down on his desk chair. "Shut your eyes," she said, and he shut them. Carol took a moment to relish the feeling of having a captain obey her before she sat on his lap and gave him a kiss just below the left ear. "It was sweet of you to find that book for me," she murmured. "I like you very much, too."


	9. Chapter 9

Later that night, when they'd caught their breath, they were lying in Jim's bunk all tangled up. The captain looked more content and relaxed than ever. Carol propped herself up on an elbow and playfully asked, "Which number person taught you that last trick?"

"Who says anyone taught it to me?" Jim said with a wink. "Maybe I'm a sexual genius, in addition to being handsome, funny, and the youngest captain in the fleet."

Carol ran her fingers through his hair and answered, "I say someone taught it to you, you big braggart. Come on, you can tell me. Who was it?"

Jim said, "Someone did teach me. But I'm not telling you her name."

"Why not? I'm not a jealous woman," Carol said, twirling a lock of his hair into a curl.

"Because I do have rules, believe it or not," Jim said, "I don't make moves on someone who's spoken for, I never lie just to get someone's pants off, and I don't talk about one person when I'm in bed with another. Unless we're all three in bed together and I can't avoid it."

Carol's grip on his hair tightened, ever so slightly, as she asked, "Does that last one happen very often?"

"Um, no comment," Jim said, clearly struggling not to laugh. "Anyway, with all these questions about my history, don't you think it's strange you haven't told me anything about your list?"

Carol let go of his hair and stroked down the inside of his arm, her eyes following her fingers across his naked body. "Well, mine isn't nearly as long and storied as yours. It's only got four people on it."

"Hmm. That's interesting," Jim murmured, as he closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation of her hand on him. She could actually feel his muscles relaxing under her touch, could hear how his breathing was slowing down.

"Is it?

"Yup. Because I figure, a beautiful woman like you must've had more than four men interested. So there's a story about why you've only gotten involved with four."

Carol had to admit he was pretty perceptive, for a man who looked like he might fall asleep any moment. "Good guess. One of the men lasted for six years. We were engaged," she said, forcing her tone to remain casual even as her heartbeat picked up from the memories.

Jim opened his eyes and said, "See, I thought there was a story, and here's a story!"

"Right. It's an excellent story for another time," Carol said firmly. "I think I've decided I like your rule about not talking about one person while you're in bed with another."

Jim sat up a bit and gave her a long kiss on the lips. "We don't have to talk at all, if you don't want," he whispered. So for another hour, they did everything else but talk.

Finally, Carol sat up on the edge of the bed and started looking for where they'd dropped her bra. "You don't have to leave, you know," Jim said from beside her.

"Don't I?" she asked, twisting around to look at him. "Won't people talk if I'm not where they expect me to be in the morning?"

"You aren't on duty first shift tomorrow. I checked. Just have a shower here, wait for your hair to dry, and then walk out like you have every right in the world to be on this deck. No one's going to ask you why the captain called you up here," Jim said, the throaty whisper belying the thoroughness of his plan.

Carol raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you thought this through," she said. "I had no idea you'd been sitting around cooking up ways to get me to stay over."

"Shhhh," Jim said as reached up and lightly pinched one of her nipples, enjoying her little gasp of surprise and the face that she made. "You can sleep on the inside of the bunk, if you'd be more comfortable," he said slyly. "Come on, lie back down."

Carol lay back down.


	10. Chapter 10

Carol was rudely awakened by an elbow in her ribs. Her sleep-muddled brain couldn't quite process where she was or who had just elbowed her, but she managed to groan, "Ow! What the hell was that for?" The only answer was more thrashing from next to her, and someone's foot kicking her legs. Still groggy, she turned over and said, "Computer, lights at 10%." As a soft glow filled the room, she saw Captain James T. Kirk, his eyes squeezed shut and his face contorted as if by pain, flailing around for no obvious reason. "Jim?" she said tentatively, "Are you awake?" By way of an answer, the captain whimpered.

 _Shit._ "Jim, wake up," Carol said, tapping his shoulder. "Jim, honey, you're having a nightmare. Come on, wake up," she added, more urgently now. She took hold of his shoulder and physically shook him. To her relief, he opened his eyes.

"What is it? What happened?" he gasped.

"You started thrashing around and moaning," she said, struggling to make her tone soothing instead of annoyed. "My guess is you had a nightmare. So I figured you wouldn't mind if I woke you up to remind you that everything's all right." She laid a hand on his chest and realized with a start that she could feel his heart hammering in his chest. _That must have been one hell of a dream._

Jim sat up and rubbed his eyes with a grunt. "Yeah, you guessed right. It was just a nightmare. Sorry if I smacked you, or anything," he said, sheepishly. He swung his legs off the bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he put his head in his hands.

"You did, a little. But don't worry about it. A person can't help what they do while they're asleep," Carol said reassuringly. She sat up behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. "Are you all right now?"

"That's . . . open to interpretation," Jim said wryly. "If Bones were here, he'd probably start lecturing me about how 'dammit man, you can't ignore the psychological effects of all the trauma you've been through in the last year.'"

Carol laughed a bit at the spot-on impersonation, but the tension in his body was palpable. "Is that what you had a nightmare about?" she asked gently. "Death?"

Jim shook his head and said, "No. Being dead didn't hurt. I dreamed about dying."

"Oh," Carol said. A fleeting thought went through her mind, _it is fucking weird that we can have this conversation._ She laid a hand over his left pectoral, trying to see if his heartbeat was calming down at all. "Do you have nightmares about that often?"

Jim shrugged. "I guess. About dying, or about not being able to save my ship, or about a thousand other things that can scare me. I was hoping I wouldn't have one while you were here," he admitted.

"Oh, don't worry about my tender eyes seeing a man have a nightmare," Carol said. "I've had my share of awful, scream-yourself-awake nights in the past two years." _With all the bullshit you and I have been through, it's a wonder we aren't both catatonic._

"You too, huh?" Jim said, without a trace of his usual humor.

 _Well that attempt at cheering him up won't win any awards, Carol._ "So . . . what do you usually do to get back to sleep? Do you want some water or anything?" she asked.

"I usually read," Jim said. "But . . . since you're here, I bet I can think of a better idea."

Carol played dumb. "Oh? What's that?"

Jim leaned back on an angle and gave her a kiss on the lips. "I bet you can guess," he said. He scooted backwards until he was sitting against the wall, then pulled Carol onto his lap and stroked a hand up her thigh. "Computer, lights out," he ordered.


	11. Chapter 11

In the morning, there was no discussion of nightmares. Jim was up first and showered before Carol had even stirred. Consequently, she was awakened by Jim tickling her, which led to a lot of shrieking and her whumping him with one of the ridiculously shiny orange pillows that Starfleet had inexplicably installed on the _Enterprise._

Jim cracked up as he defended against the sparkly offensive, laughing, "Hey now, how was I supposed to know you didn't want to wake up, Miss 'people will talk if I'm found in the captain's quarters'?"

Carol laughed too as she scolded, "First of all, my voice does not sound that high-pitched and squeaky. Secondly, I like to sleep in a bit when I don't have to work alpha shift. I didn't realize that was a vice worth getting viciously tickled over."

It was the type of argument that could only be resolved by kissing and making up.

After five minutes of kisses, Jim said, "All right, the shower's all yours. I have some instant oatmeal packets hidden, want me to mix those up with some hot water? We can have breakfast here before you go. I might even have instant coffee or some tea."

"Tea sounds positively lovely," Carol said, as she stepped into the bathroom.

There were the usual morning-after problems to deal with, such as being on a separate deck from her toothbrush and comb. After the shower, she also realized that they only clothes she had with her were the wraparound shirt and the grey skirt – not exactly your standard "casual morning conversation with the captain" outfit. _I'll just have to hope most of my neighbors are busy on their own shifts,_ she reflected, _or else, hope that the ones who see me aren't telepaths._ Plenty of her neighbors were having affairs, she knew, but none of them had ever woken up in the captain's bed. _Guess I'm one-in-four-hundred-thirty that way._

Fully dressed, she sat down at the captain's table – _where all of this began –_ and sniffed the aromas of oatmeal and tea appreciatively. _Decent spread, for private quarters on a spaceship. Does he keep all this stuff around just waiting for the morning after a lady spends the night, or what?_ She picked up the spoon and stirred her piping hot bowl of oatmeal. "This smells good," she said with a smile. "Is the tea replicated, or something from your Earth stash?"

"From the Earth stash," Jim mumbled around a mouthful.

"You're spoiling me," Carol smiled.

Jim smirked. "Maybe I'm bribing you for information," he said lightly.

Carol groaned inwardly. "You really want to know more about my fiancé, don't you?"

"What? No, not that specifically. It could be any kind of information," Jim protested, but Carol saw straight through it.

"Fine, then. What do you want to know about him?" she asked, resigned. _You're going to have to broach this subject with every man in your future, may as well start now._

"Name? How you met? Why you're not married to him and settled down on some colony somewhere with a whole bunch of prototype torpedoes to work on and seven adorable kids to raise?" Jim asked. "The usual questions one has about a girlfriend's ex-fiancé."

Carol nodded, and took a deep breath before she answered. "His name was Wissam Kasem. We met in graduate school because we were both working as assistants in the same propulsion lab. We got involved and he proposed a year later. As for why we're not married," she said, "I guess we just never quite made it down the aisle. First we wanted to wait and see where we'd be headed for our doctorate studies, then Starfleet accepted me and he got a job in Damascus, so we were separated by distance for a few years. We'd see each other every month, enjoy the reunion, talk about setting a date, end up deciding we had to delay until this or that happened, and then the pattern would repeat. It wasn't a great way to keep up a relationship.

"I thought about breaking things off, a thousand times. But there were still good times, and our families liked each other, and all my friends told me how lucky I was to have such a smart and funny guy in love with me. So I just never did," she finished, a little sadly. She sipped her tea to calm down.

Jim was listening attentively and nodding sympathetically. "So, what finally happened?" he asked.

"Hnh," Carol snorted. "Well, Khan attacked, my father was revealed as a traitor and brutally murdered before my very eyes, and my hip was completely shattered. McCoy did a good job with a temporary patch, but it still took three surgeries to get back full range of motion. As soon as I woke up from the third, I saw Wissam by my bedside. And he said to me, (I paraphrase), 'Sorry about your dad, honey, but I just can't marry into a traitor's family.' He had the nerve to ask me for the ring back, while I was still lying in a hospital bed." She shook her head at the memory. _I'm not going to cry, seriously, I'm not._

When she met his eyes, Jim Kirk looked angry. "I should kill this bastard for you," he said, indignation in his voice. "What kind of jerk takes advantage of a woman in a weakened state like that?"

"I don't know," Carol said, "And although I appreciate your offer to kill him, I think the scratches I put down his face after I slapped him were all the revenge I really needed." _Or had the stomach for, when I'd loved him for so long._

Jim frowned in disgust. "I just don't understand people, sometimes. How could he do that to someone he loved?"

Carol shook her head sadly and said, "Guess it wasn't true love after all."

"Did you give him the ring back?" Jim asked.

"I actually didn't have it with me, at the time," Carol said. "In fact, I'd left it at home before I went to present you with my fake transfer orders. I figured it would be easier to infiltrate a ship captained by a massive flirt if I looked like I was single." Her face colored at the memory of how shamelessly she'd tried to catch his eye. _Technically, that plan has worked amazingly well,_ she thought. _It just took longer than expected._ She covered her sudden discomfort by explaining, "See, before I met you, I heard rumors that you never passed up a chance to spend more time with a smiling woman in a Starfleet uniform."

Jim looked mildly amused. "I probably earned that part of my reputation, fair and square," he admitted.

 _I had it on Christine Chapel's good authority_ , Carol mused. "Well, anyway, I sent the ring to Wissam before I left on this mission. There was no use dragging things out by letting him sue me for it."

"Good point," Jim said, "But I'm sure you were tempted to throw it in the ocean or blast it with a phaser."

"The thoughts did cross my mind," Carol admitted. She looked down at the bowl and realized she'd forgotten to eat while they were talking. She quickly picked up her spoon and returned to her meal. "Well, now that you know more about my romantic history, shouldn't you tell me something about yours?"

Was that smirk hiding a slight flush in the captain's cheeks? "Is there something in particular you want to know?" Jim asked.

Carol thought that over as she washed the oatmeal down with some tea. "Well, what's your record? The longest you've ever dated someone?" Jim took two more bites of oatmeal, chewed, and swallowed. "Jim?" Carol prodded.

"I'm counting," he said. "Uh, ten months I think?"

 _I thought you might say ten weeks._ "Who was that?"

"Areel Shaw," he said with a faraway look on his face. "She was my teacher's assistant when I took 'Intro to Federation Law' at the Academy. I impressed her in my study group and she asked me out for a drink. The rest was history."

"She must have been one of a kind, if she got the famous Jim Kirk to settle down for ten months," Carol commented. With a mental _click_ , the thought occurred, _though we've been seeing each other for a month and I barely realized._

"Well she was quite a woman, but it's more like she's the first one who could put up with me for ten months. I'm not usually someone who likes to end things, to tell the truth," Jim explained.

"So what happened?"

"She graduated from law school and got her first assignment, Starbase 11. Obviously quite a long way away from San Francisco. We parted on good terms and she said I should look her up if I ever get out that far," Jim recalled. He shrugged and added, "Still, guess it wasn't true love in our case, either."

Carol asked, out of morbid curiosity, "What number was she on the list of sixty-four?"

Jim frowned, and that was strange, because Jim Kirk almost never frowned. "Carol, why do you keep asking about that list?"

 _Because I can't reconcile your reputation with how kind you've been to me_ , Carol thought. She also thought, _because I'm just an annoying person who has to quantify everything._ But she said, truthfully and with color rising in her cheeks, "I suppose . . . it's a little embarrassing . . . but I'm wondering how anyone can possibly measure up to five dozen other partners. How I can measure up."

"Oh," Jim said, breathing a sigh of relief, "I was worried you were jealous. But if you're just wondering about measuring up, it's simple. You don't have to."

Carol raised an eyebrow. "Don't I?"

"Nope. I don't sit around comparing my partners. I just enjoy each person as they come along," Jim said. "And if there's a lot of them, well, that's just because I enjoy lots of things. I'm obnoxiously enthusiastic that way," he added with another smirk.

Carol kept looking at him, disbelief written on her face. "And you really never think about one person when you're with another?"

"Think about? Sure. I can't help _remembering_ stuff. But I don't let that distract me from the present," he insisted. "Believe me, Carol, when I took you to bed last night, there was no one here but you and me."

Carol was a little embarrassed by how big a relief that was to hear. "Well, um, good," she said. "Thanks."

"For what?" Jim asked.

"Oh, nothing," she said with a smile, "Just this oatmeal here."


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello readers. I uploaded this document last week, but somehow never published it as a chapter. Whoops :$ So I've had to insert it between chapters 11 and 12, and making chapters 12-13 into chapters 13-14. I have also now added chapter 15. I apologize for any confusion.**

* * *

"Hi, Carol! How are you?" Christine Chapel's smiling face called out from the viewscreen.

"Hi, Christine," Carol answered with a smile. It was good to see her old friend in real time again. The video messages they sent each other were just barely a passable substitute for conversation. Real-time phone calls from a starship had to be restricted, though, because of how much of the computer's resources they could take. Carol had always declined to take her ration of the time available, reasoning that people with families needed it more. But this was a special circumstance. "You look great, honey," she said with a smile, "At least from what I can tell on this tiny little screen."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. You do too," Christine smiled back. "How's the exploration of uncharted space going?"

Carol considered how to describe the mission. _If I mention that I might be leaving, that'll be all she wants to hear about, and I'll be spared the hard conversation. Which would be the coward's path,_ she reflected _. So you're not going to do that._ "It's exciting, but also overwhelming sometimes," she said, adding, "When there's a new planet or a new crisis every week, it's hard to appreciate each new thing. Plus we don't need my weapons expertise as often as Starfleet seems to think we do. Still, I get to go on away missions sometimes, and that's a thrill."

"I can only imagine," Christine said. "Even when I was serving on a ship, I almost never got sent outside of sickbay for anything other than a collapsed ensign on the transporter pad."

"Yeah, well, away missions aren't as much fun when they go wrong," Carol admitted. "So how's the outer frontier?"

"Getting busier. More and more colonists are arriving all the time, and it's really stretching the capacity of our existing infrastructure. I can't even believe the number of cases of vitamin deficiency I've treated in the last year. It's scary how easily the human body can break down once it leaves the safety of a managed diet and an Earth-like gravity well," Christine sighed. "Still, this is what I wanted to do, practice medicine in less-than-pristine conditions. It's just the right amount of adventure, for me."

"I'm glad you're liking it," Carol said. "I just hope you're not getting vitamin deficient, yourself."

"Oh, don't worry," Christine laughed. "There's regular shipments of supplements coming in, now. Besides, the ag. Department thinks they're close to figuring out why our first crops didn't do so well. But I think you didn't call me in real time just to hear tales of frontier life."

Carol had a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She reminded herself, _this is why you called. You owe her this._ "No, I didn't. I have something to tell you about life on the _Enterprise._ "

"I'm listening," Christine said, still smiling – Christine really had the most beautiful, open smile. _No wonder Jim was attracted to her._

Carol marshalled her courage and said, "I've been seeing Jim Kirk. For about a month now."

Christine slowly nodded, processing the news. She said, "So, has he shown you that trick he does with the honey on the inside of your thigh, yet?"

Carol gasped to cover her shock. "Christine! What kind of question is that?" she spluttered.

"I'll take that as a yes," Christine said with a knowing wink. "It's a really interesting sensation, isn't it?"

". . . Interesting is definitely one word for it," Carol admitted. Both women dissolved into giggles for a few seconds. "Oh, Christine, I'm so glad you're not angry," Carol said as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Now why would I be angry?" Christine asked. "I know firsthand how charming Jim Kirk can be, and you're only human. Besides, you're my friend. I want you to have some fun with your life. I've moved on. I'm seeing someone else now, a researcher here."

Carol grinned. "Really? Who's that?" she asked.

"Ohhh no," Christine said, shaking her head. "You don't get details until I get some about you and Jim. How did this thing get started?"

 _That's an excellent question_ , Carol thought. "I think you should go first, and the quality of your details will determine the quality of mine!" she insisted.

The two friends proceeded to make the most of their hour-long phone call ration. Towards the end, after telling Carol that she thought Roger might propose, Christine grew thoughtful and asked, "Do you think it's serious, with Jim?"

Carol bit her lip while she considered how to answer. "We haven't figured that out yet," she said just as the computer pinged a two-minute warning, "But I think he might be interested."

Christine asked, "Are you?"

Carol hesitated, even though it meant wasting a few precious seconds. "I just don't know if I'm ready for anything serious, after Wissam," she said nervously. The computer's clock turned red to indicate they only had 30 seconds.

Christine spoke quickly to say, "Well, my dear, you need to figure that out before you become the first woman to break Jim Kirk's heart instead of the other way around. But I know we're out of time. Send me an update soon, please?"

"Yes, I will," Carol said, just as the computer cut off.


	13. Chapter 13

One evening later that week, Carol met Jim in one of the mess halls. He'd brought a game that he swore she absolutely had to try. After a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, Carol kissed him hello before taking a seat across the table from him. "I finished The Silver Sword," she said. "It was good, but I'm not sure it's my new favorite."

"Too bad. I'll send you the next one on the list," he promised. "But listen, I have to tell you something before we play. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to be acting more impulsive and less rational than usual."

Carol absorbed that statement, and said, "May I ask why?"

Jim crooked that charming smile she liked so much. "You can ask, but I can't explain. Please just trust me that there's a good reason for it."

Carol rolled her eyes and sarcastically commented, "Isn't that just like a man. 'I'm going to act crazy, and you'll have to tolerate it, don't you dare ask questions!'"

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, maybe, but this particular man is also a captain, so there's always going to be things I can't discuss with a lieutenant. Even when I want to."

Carol nodded and asked, "So why tell me at all?"

"Because you're going to have to help with part of what's going down, as our resident weapons expert. And because I want you to know that it's not really me talking," Jim said. "I'll be playing a part. You know the real me. So please don't hold anything against me."

Carol was mildly annoyed at the assumption that she could completely overlook wild behavior. _What, is he going to pull rank every time he wants to be a jerk?_ But she brushed that aside and said, "All right, I won't. Now explain this game to me."

"Right," Jim said, relief evident on his face. "So, there's four different victory conditions, depending on whether you want to focus on science, economics, military, or culture. You start with one of these little data cards to explain your character . . ."

True to his word, Captain Kirk was irritable with everyone the next day. He acted like an ass for a week – snapping at junior officers, complaining about everything that he usually defended (the food, the time it took to clean his shirts, the whining of the vacuum robots), ignoring Dr. McCoy's attempts to have him psychologically evaluated, even avoiding Carol. He did send her the next book recommendation, though – an early 22nd-century novel called The Subsect – so she figured the real Jim must still be in there, somewhere.

Then he randomly ordered the helm to steer the _Enterprise_ into the Romulan neutral zone. Red alert wailed through the corridors.

 _Dammit, Jim, what game are you playing?_ Carol wondered as she ran for the access tube that would get her to her battle station the quickest. She wrenched open the hatch and did a fireman's slide down the ladder to save time. _We only just barely avoided war with the Klingons, and now you go around provoking the Romulans? What the hell does that accomplish?_ His one request, "please just trust me," echoed in her head. _But how can I trust you if you won't share your plans?_

"Weapons status report," she barked as she emerged in the torpedo bay.

"Torpedoes loaded into all tubes and all mounted phasers fully charged, Lieutenant," Ensign Ford reported. "But it won't help us. We can't find targets."

Without missing a beat, Carol asked, "What do you mean, we can't find targets? Aren't the sensors working?"

"That's the trouble, Lieutenant. The bridge just confirmed. The Romulan ships are cloaked. We can't confirm their locations either visually or electronically."

 _Well, that's bad_ , Carol thought. "Since when do cloaking devices beat Starship scanners?" she wondered aloud.

Ensign Ford shrugged and said, "I guess the Romulans got an upgrade." The pale, redheaded woman was clearly trying to hide her fear, and failing. _And no wonder. What is she, twenty-two? Probably got assigned to the_ Enterprise _straight out of the academy, like a lot of the crew. And we're fighting an invisible enemy in non-Federation space._ _I'd_ _be terrified too, if I let that sink in._

Carol figured the best defense against fear was a good offense. "All right, Ensign, if we can't confirm their location, we have to figure out how to track it. Phasers won't be much help with the electronic targeting out of commission, so let's take this back to old-school ballistics. Our torpedoes were due for an upgrade anyway. Ford, I need you to pull up everything we know about the latest Romulan ships. Anything and everything. Can you do that for me and then meet me back here in five minutes? I'll round up everyone who knows anything about torpedo design."

"Aye, ma'am, I'll be back in five minutes," Ensign Ford replied, and hurried off.

Carol went to the wall communicator and opened a channel to the entire tactical department, rattling off the names of every torpedo specialist and hobbyist she could think of and ordering them to "Report to torpedo bay on the double." Meanwhile, she conducted her own hasty assessment of the situation. _I know Jim Kirk doesn't want to start a war. So if we're in Romulan space, Starfleet sent us. Which means Starfleet wants something from the Romulans._ It hit her later than it should have. _Duh, we want their fancy new cloaking devices._ Unfortunately, she couldn't think of a scenario that started with "we commit an act of war" and ended with "we get back to safety with a cloaking device." _Good thing it's not your job to come up with these scenarios, at least. Just focus on the torpedoes,_ she reminded herself.

She quickly crossed the bay to where the backup torpedoes were stored, and slid open one of the cylindrical drawers. These torpedoes were only half-sized, meant to be used as warning shots or as last resorts. Which made them good candidates for experimental tampering, once they were disarmed, which she set about doing as hastily as possible. _We're not currently under attack, which means the Romulans also want something from us. All right. All right. They'd probably be happy to get ahold of the_ Enterprise _, with all her latest-gen tech, and toss us all into one of their victory museums. Which Jim won't let happen. So what's the play? What's the plan here?_ She flagged down a passing crewman and had him help her lower the torpedo onto a cart.

She pulled the cart back to where a crowd of torpedo experts was assembling. "Oh good, you're all here," she said, forcing a brightness into her tone. "Listen up, everyone. We have an interesting engineering problem to solve. I'm sure you've heard that the Romulans have found a way to be invisible both to our eyes and to our sensors. So we need to find another way to track them. We're going to use this torpedo as a demonstration tool for our discussion." She saw Ensign Ford coming back. "And, Ensign Ford is going to distribute everything we currently know about Romulan ships to your individual PADDs. Everyone split into pairs, read as fast as you can, and start discussing. Raise your hand when you've thought of something you think could be useful. Understood?"

The chorus of _aye's_ was reassuring, though Carol still had a serious case of butterflies in her stomach. As the group split into pairs, she found herself facing a young Ensign with short curly brown hair. "Ensign . . . Garrowe, is it?" she asked. The other woman nodded. "All right. Any immediate thoughts?"

"I'm still reading, ma'am," Ensign Garrowe said.

"Of course. Keep going. Let me know when you have thoughts," Carol said, turning to her own PADD.

It took about five minutes before the first hands flew up in the air. Carol called on each person in turn. A number of ideas were dismissed out of hand – they couldn't get close enough to any ship to feel vibrations from its engines, there was no practical way to spew probes up, right, left, down, forward and back. Then finally someone said, "Well, how would we track the _Enterprise_ if we couldn't see her?"

"This ship spews ionized gas behind it. We'd be able to trace that," Ensign Ford chimed in.

 _Of course!_ "Every ship the Federation's ever built has had some kind of exhaust venting," Carol said, realizing the importance even as she said it. "The Romulans must be venting something too, right? What do the Romulans use for fuel?" That set off a flurry of tapping and swiping at PADDs.

"Romulan ships do emit plasma exhaust," Ensign Garrowe said triumphantly. "There's instruments in our archives designed to track gaseous anomalies. Could we doctor a torpedo to be plasma-seeking?"

"Maybe," Carol said. "The hard part will be getting it to track the Romulans instead of us. Quick, someone get word to the bridge. Ask them to scan for plasma exhaust and send us all the data they've got. Everyone else, let's start cracking open our reserve torpedoes. This is going to take some rewiring." People rushed off to make that happen.

It was while she was waiting for the data to come back, roughly two hours after red alert began, that the rumors reached the bay. "Captain Kirk has been pronounced dead," the whispers said. "His body was just taken to sickbay." Carol stood rooted to her spot and thought about that. _He's been dead before. It didn't stick,_ she reminded herself – though that wasn't exactly a guarantee of eternal life, especially considering the ordeal it had taken to save McCoy's medical license. Official studies of Augment blood were still in their embryonic state. _Still, if they're saying he's dead now, it must all be part of some trick_ , she mentally insisted. _Jim Kirk's not dead. He's simply not._

"Ma'am?" Ensign Ford said, worry in her tone. "Ma'am, are you with us? We've got that data on the plasma exhaust now."

Carol shook off her thoughts. "Yes, Ensign, please tell me there's a way to differentiate our exhaust from theirs."

"I think there is, ma'am. Let me show you . . ."

After another two hours, they had the technical specs down, and all hands were racing to reconfigure the steering systems, reprogram the targeting computers, perform surgery on every torpedo they had. Every time the teams finished with one weapon, they pulled another out of the firing tube, slotting the altered one into its place and cracking open the unaltered one for surgery. The routine went on and on until Carol's hands and mind were both going numb from the adrenaline and the work. Nonetheless, she knew that if the attack order came, they'd be ready.

The comms wailed, and Lieutenant Uhura's voice came over the shipwide channel. "Now hear this. Now hear this. Dr. Marcus to the forward deflector array. Dr. Carol Marcus to the forward deflector array."

Carol started up in surprise. _What the hell do they want me to do to the deflectors?_ She wondered. "Take over here, Ensign Ford. Get them all altered, but continue to hold your fire until the bridge signals," she said as she ran for the ladder. The deflector array was only one deck up, but someone had put it on the far side of the saucer. Carol had to run hell-for-leather to make it.

Mr. Scott met her at the deflector array, holding a device shaped vaguely like an upside-down lollipop. "Scotty, what the hell is that?" Carol asked.

"A cloaking device, which Captain Kirk just stole off a Romulan ship, and which we have thirteen minutes to install so we can beam Spock off said ship, and get the hell out of here without being blown straight to kingdom come," Scotty said, surprisingly calm for the situation. "With me being the best jury-rigger, and you being the shield expert on the ship, I figured we could work it out between us."

Carol's thoughts on the situation were many, varied, and mostly irrelevant. She compressed them into three pieces of knowledge: _1\. Jim's alive and committing espionage. 2. We have a cloaking device – we have an_ _actual cloaking device_ _. 3. We have less than a quarter hour to learn how to use it._ "All right," she said, "Let me see the works."

A quarter hour is not nearly enough time to learn the intricacies of a system designed by foreign hands. Five minutes just barely sufficed for them to locate what seemed to be the power inputs and the shield-modulating outputs. "So, we connect our outputs to their inputs and their outputs to our inputs. Simple as that," Carol said in what she hoped was a confident tone, as she cracked open the access panels for the _Enterprise_ 's shield modulation controls. _Then we pray that we don't get blown to kingdom come_ , she thought. "Uh, our plugs aren't going to be compatible with theirs, though. We're going to have to hard-wire these the old-fashioned way. How quickly can you strip and solder?" she asked Scotty.

"Fastest stripper-solderer in the galaxy," he replied, but he failed at sounding confident. Keenser, seemingly a mind-reader, was already walking in with two stripping tools and two solder guns. Carol grabbed hers.

"I've got the modulation outputs. You take the power," she said. She clipped the ends off the wires, Romulan and Federation, and stripped the protective casings away. It was easy for her, as natural as breathing. She'd been rewiring things from the age of six, after all. Her daddy always did love to let her tinker with things. Soldering took more care, but it didn't have to be perfect – just good enough to hold on. _Just good enough,_ she muttered to herself as she wrapped the wires around each other and dripped molten metal over them before wrapping them in strips of heat-resistant tape.

"Bridge to deflector array," Uhura's voice came over the comms. "Captain requests an update on the status of the cloaking device installation."

Scotty answered. "We've got her plugged in, but there's no way to tell if flipping the switch will fry every circuit we've got."

Jim's voice crackled through the speakers. "We'll have to risk it, Scotty. Throw the switch!" Carol's heart leapt surprisingly – not at the order, but at the voice. _He's alive. I knew it._ "You heard the captain. Hit it!" she urged.

She watched the device closely as it came to life. The slight whine in the air indicated that the soldering job wasn't perfect, but at least there were no sparks, no explosions, and no sign that the device was somehow about to kill everyone. "Is it working?" she asked Scotty.

He shrugged. "I dunno how we're supposed to tell. How do we know whether we're invisible or not?"

"Good point," she said. She opened the comm link to the bridge. "Dr. Marcus to the bridge, are we . . . uh . . . cloaked?"

Lieutenant Uhura's voice replied, "Affirmative, it seems we are. The Romulans have dropped away from pursuit."

Carol took the first real breath she'd taken in . . . well, possibly hours. "We did it," she whispered.

"Aye, we did! High five!" Scotty said, enthusiastically raising his hand. Carol laughed and slapped it.

Uhura's voice said, "Your orders are to keep the device on for another half hour to ensure our escape, then deactivate and remove it for study."

"Roger that, over and out," Carol said, and closed the link. She plopped down into a chair and laughed in relief. She realized her hands were shaking and her stockings had several long ladders in them. _I must've ripped them sliding down the ladder, earlier,_ she idly reflected _._

"You're welcome to sit with me for the half hour, lassie," Scotty offered. "Catch your breath, keep an eye on the contraption."

"Thanks, but I think I'd better get back to the torpedo bay and tell them they don't have to perform surgery on all 300 torpedoes after all," Carol said.

Scotty frowned and asked, "Surgery? What are they doing to the torpedoes, now?"

"Oh, I forgot to mention," Carol said. "We started altering torpedoes to seek out the plasma discharged by the Romulan vessels, without getting distracted by our own exhaust."

Scotty blinked at her. "You did that in six hours?"

Carol nodded and said, "Well, yeah, though who knows if it would really have worked if we'd had to fire."

Scotty said, "Aye, we have to do more tests on the prototypes, but that's a very interesting design idea. I'm sure you'd get a mention in at least one journal if you submitted."

Carol smiled. "Maybe so, but I can't even think about writing it up right now. Maybe tomorrow. It was lovely installing a cloaking device with you, but I really must get back to the bay," she said, pushing herself to her feet. A wave of dizziness hit her and she fell back down. "Whoa," she said.

"Are you all right, Doctor? You look white as a ghost," Scotty asked, coming over to her side. "Should I call sickbay?"

"No! no," Carol insisted, shaking her head to clear it. "I'm sure it's just the adrenaline wearing off, plus I stood up too fast. I'm fine, honestly." She smiled and added, "And I'd better get back to the torpedo bay." She got up, slowly this time, and hurried away.

Later that evening, after the crisis abated, her door chimed and it was Jim. She welcomed him with a kiss and said, "You look pretty good for a man who's died twice over."

He laughed, but asked quite seriously, "Did that little ruse scare you?"

"No," Carol said simply. "I trusted you." She smiled again and added, "But, now can you please explain what happened today?"

Jim got a twinkle in his eye. "I won't while we're still dressed," he said. "Maybe later."

Later, the two of them were awkwardly squeezed onto a bunk built for one ("this is why I prefer the captain's quarters," Carol grumbled, but she wasn't angry), and Jim explained the plot from beginning to end. Carol took a few minutes to straighten the details in her mind before saying, "I think this might be the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard. You faked your own insanity, followed by your own death, and then impersonated a Romulan, while meanwhile Spock seduced a Romulan commander?!"

"Uh, pretty much, I guess," Jim laughed, "Though I don't know how far things went with her and Spock. He's being tight-lipped about the details."

Carol laughed along. "I bet he and Uhura aren't too cozy, tonight," she mused.

"Unlike us," Jim said, leaning in to nibble on her earlobe.

"Yes, unlike us – mmm," she answered.

"I love this," Jim murmured in her ear. "I love seeing you and laughing with you and cuddling with you. And when I got captured by Romulans this afternoon, I realized that if things went wrong and I didn't get back, I would miss you the most out of anyone. Except maybe Bones."

Carol lay still, not sure what to say. _Does "I love seeing you" mean "I love you?"_ "I . . . I love seeing you too, Jim," she said quietly. "This is . . . this is something I didn't expect, and it's moving very fast, but I like it."

Jim snorted and said, "I think that'll be the title of my memoirs, someday." He kissed Carol's temple and squeezed her tight.


	14. Chapter 14

They were up for large portions of the night, discussing doctored torpedoes and pointed ears – and fooling around in between conversations, naturally. When Captain Kirk snuck out ninety minutes before Alpha shift began, though, Carol Marcus's bubble of happiness seemed to go with him. Unable to fall back asleep, she got up, mixed herself some instant hot chocolate, and sat at her desk. Her stomach was tying itself into knots and she wasn't sure why. For some reason, her nose was also stuffed up. She made herself laugh with the casual thought, _did his allergies somehow wear off on me?_

There was another thought in her mind, _you shouldn't have let things get this far._

"Computer, start a personal log entry," she said. It was best to talk things out, sometimes, even if you did it all alone. Personal log entries were encrypted and could only be viewed if the person gave permission or the computer was fed proof of her death. If she couldn't hash this out with a girlfriend, the computer would have to do.

"Dr. Marcus's personal log, stardate, um," Carol hesitated, then continued, "well, the stardate is the same here as it is in the official logs. I don't really need it. Today marks six weeks since I started a sexual and romantic relationship with Captain James T. Kirk. And this morning, he used the word 'love.'" She paused. _That's quite a beginning._ "Not, specifically, 'I love you,'" she said, "but it sounded a bit like that's what he meant. And I said back to him what he'd said to me. I'm not sure I meant it the same way."

Carol stood up from her desk and paced around the room twice to clear her head. She had always been a bit too formal in her logs. It was hard to open up to a computer.

"If you'd asked me a year ago, I would've insisted there was no chance of my falling in love with anyone ever again," she said confidently, "and if you'd asked me six months before that whether I was ever going to trust anyone ever again, I would've said 'hell, no.' Nothing gives a girl trust issues quite like the triple blow of being betrayed by family, Federation, and fiancé all in one week."

"My thoughts on both love and trust have softened since then." Her hair was still loose and messy from the night's activities, and she was absent-mindedly twirling a lock around and around her finger while she tried to articulate the reasons for that softening. She settled on, "I suppose time really does heal all wounds. Time, and all the therapy I've been through with Dr. Piper." Piper was the psychiatrist at Starfleet General who had counseled the majority of the crew through the fallout of the Khan incident. He'd personally insisted on helping Carol as well, even though she'd technically not been a crewmember at the time. "Plus, I suppose serving on this ship has helped me. Leaving home and exploring the fringes of space, with a crew that genuinely believes in exploration and discovery, got me away from everything that reminded me of my father and of Wissam. It's been said that a change of scenery helps a broken heart, though this is an extreme case," she added.

Suddenly she realized that she needed to relieve herself. "Pause entry," she said, and spent the whole trip to the bathroom trying to organize what else she wanted to say. When she returned to her desk, she stayed standing. She was overwhelmed with nervous energy, and didn't know why.

"Resume entry. So, all right, I'm soft. In a good way. But that doesn't mean I'm whole again. The aftershocks of the Khan Incident aren't done with me yet. I still can't think of my childhood without experiencing a sense of dissonance between 'Dad' and 'the traitor, Admiral Marcus.' I've come to doubt my reasons for being in Starfleet and explore career options outside of it. And furthermore, I'm sleeping with my captain, which I would've never considered doing before," she said.

"Which brings us back to my reason for this log entry. Jim Kirk seems to be taking our relationship very seriously. I'm pretty sure he's not going to propose marriage," – and she chuckled before adding – "In fact, I'm pretty sure he's temperamentally incapable of proposing marriage to anyone. He has his own emotional baggage to carry around. Of course, who doesn't? But anyway, it does seem like he wants to continue seeing me. The question now is, do I want to keep seeing him? Can I keep seeing him, when I'm so muddled?"

Carol sat back down, in silence and no closer to an answer. The technique she tried next was a bit old-fashioned: "All right, here's some pros to a relationship with him. He makes me laugh, he brings me interesting books, he's full of energy and a love for life that can really be contagious. He encourages me to do my best work. He's brilliant, in a lot of ways. He cares about me and I know he'd sacrifice anything to protect the ones he loves." _In fact, he's already sacrificed_ _everything_ _to do that._ She went on, "I find him incredibly attractive, he's a good lover, he's more sensitive than his reputation suggests." _Once, he refused to stun my father in front of me, even though my father absolutely would've had it coming._ "And . . . it's nice feeling like you're not facing down the entire galaxy all alone. I forgot what a high it is to be in love," she finished. _Though I've seen how short-lived that feeling can be, before._

"Okay. Cons of continuing to see him. He gets bored easily. I might end up being number sixty-four of a hundred, or maybe he's only number four of ten, I don't know. I haven't completely moved on from the last man who broke my heart." _Maybe that belongs on a list of reasons why Jim Kirk should stop seeing Carol Marcus, not the other way around_ , she mused. Out loud she said, "Furthermore, he can be extremely impulsive. Not a bad thing for a captain, not a great thing for a boyfriend."

Carol sat for a moment and ran over the list. _It's not a true confession, yet. You're leaving out one big, uncomfortable fact._ With a sigh, she said, "But most importantly, I wouldn't be willing to change my career plans for him. And, I don't think he'd be willing to give up his career for me. Which wouldn't be an automatic end to the relationship, if my career goals didn't involve going back to Earth for another degree. Maybe, I mean. I haven't heard for sure yet. But when I do hear, if I am offered a place on Earth, I'm going to have to leave Jim. And if I continue to see him now, I might be setting us up for a more painful breakup in a month or two." Carol rubbed her face in annoyance, unable to think of anything to add. "End entry." She didn't feel much clearer about her choices.

 _Well, that was pointless_. With a sigh, she drained her cocoa mug. It was getting close to the start of her shift in any case. She quickly hopped into the sonic shower and focused on getting herself presentable for the day. Stockings, uniform, boots, combed hair, lipstick – somehow, it all seemed much more challenging with a distracted mind. The phrase "in a month or two" ran through her head. _In a month or two, the schools might reject me. In a month or two, I might have to leave. In a month or two . . ._

It all clicked just before she left for her shift. She froze in the middle of applying mascara and said to her own reflection, "I'm silly, aren't I?"

She tossed the brush onto the counter and stepped out of the bathroom. "Computer, start a supplemental log entry," she said in a rush. "The stardate is in the database. When I was a little girl, my father told me a story. A sultan condemns a man to death and the man says, 'Your highness, if you let me live for one more year, I'll spend that year teaching your horse to talk.' So the sultan is intrigued and he grants a reprieve. A little later the man's best friend sees him out in the pasture trying to teach the horse to talk. He says, 'You're only delaying things. You'll be executed once they realize the horse can't talk.'

"But the man says, 'Listen, I bought myself a year. In a year, I might die of natural causes. In a year, the sultan might die. In a year, maybe this horse will learn to talk.'" Carol finished triumphantly, and then realized that she'd just told a parable to a computer. _Computers don't understand your metaphorical points,_ she reminded herself.

"Um, the idea is, you never really know what'll happen in life, and if you give up before you start, you'll never know what miracles are possible. So you know what, personal log of mine? I'm not going to break up with Jim Kirk yet. I'm going to wait and see. The horse might talk. End entry." Carol smiled at nothing in particular, and turned around to face the day.


	15. Chapter 15

**Quick author's note: I am indebted to both** **HeartofFyrwinde (for some of the date ideas in this chapter) and to _The Autobiography of James T. Kirk_ , by David A. Goodman (for the technobabble about artificial gravity)**. **Also, obviously, to _Star Trek_ for the characters in this chapter. But the words are mine!**

* * *

Every sentient being serving on a starship knows one fact: it's easy to start a relationship in cramped quarters, and much harder to maintain one. Captain Kirk had had more occasions to explore the truth of that than your average Starfleet captain. It was why Christine Chapel had put in for a transfer after just four months aboard, which Bones had reamed Jim out over so badly that they hadn't spoken for a week. Their friendship was only saved when Jim bought Bones a drink and promised, on his honor, that he'd never cost them a good officer again. He'd kept that promise, too. In the past two years, he'd stopped publicly flirting with shipmates and he hadn't made the first move on anyone. Heck, up until that first night with Carol, he'd only had sex with two partners since the five-year mission started, neither of them crewmembers – and that was a challenge, because chastity was so boring.

So now that he was seeing Carol, regularly and exclusively, Jim Kirk was being very careful. He'd only reported to Spock that he and Carol had developed "a personal relationship." He hadn't told Bones or anyone else about what was going on; if people knew, they'd gossip, and all that scrutiny would crush the romance. Above all, to keep things from fizzling out, he had wracked his brains for the best dates one could have on a starship – to mixed results, unfortunately.

Once, Jim pulled out all the stops to make dinner seem more romantic – flowers from botany, music playing from the computer, a PADD with a video of a flickering candle set on the table. (Carol laughed at the idea of having a picture of candlelight, but when she was done laughing she kissed Jim, so he still called that one a victory). A couple can't eat itself into a solid relationship, though.

So sometimes, they'd both read one of the books from Carol's list of prospective favorites, and meet up to discuss. Or sometimes, they'd snuggle up at Jim's desk and watch a movie. Or they'd go to the phaser range and see who could make the better score at shooting. (It was Carol.) Occasionally, date ideas presented themselves from thin air, such as the day Jim and Carol got into a spirited debate about who could make the better omelet. It was finally settled when they reserved one of the hobby kitchens for an hour and cooked side-by-side. "The proof will be in the tasting!" Carol declared, but actually, her slightly stuffy nose made it hard to judge fairly. (Jim tasted her omelet, though, and decided that she won by a long shot. "Can I cook or can I cook?" she quipped.)

Other times, Jim had to dig a little deeper. Late one night, he brought his lover to a seemingly random cargo space in the middle decks and led her out into the middle of a catwalk. "Watch this," he whispered. He placed both his hands on the railing, pushed, and flipped upwards into a handstand. _Neat trick_ , Carol thought, but before she could say anything, Jim let go of the railing . . . and floated upwards, landing on the ceiling.

"What the hell? How did you do that?" Carol spluttered.

Jim grinned down at her. "We're halfway between the gravity generator and the bow plate. Things get a little weird," he explained. "There's a sweet spot like this on most ships, if you know where to look."

Carol looked up at Jim, down at her feet, over to the walls. Still flabbergasted, she asked, "How did you figure that out?"

"Come on up and I'll tell you," Jim challenged, "Unless you're afraid?"

Carol stepped up to the railing and gripped it. _Perfectly normal railing._ She hesitated. Under ordinary circumstances, she couldn't do a true handstand without toppling over. Would the shift in gravity make her lose her grip? _Only one way to learn,_ she told herself firmly. She threw her weight onto her hands, kicked up with her legs, saw a very long drop before her eyes . . .

. . . and floated upwards until she fell against the ceiling. "Huh," was the only response she could manage.

"Isn't that fun?" Jim said, his smile making him look like a little kid again. "I love flipping around. It changes your whole perspective."

Carol looked up – no, down – but also up – at the upside-down catwalk, the cargo bins dangling from the floor above her head, the signs that were suddenly all gibberish. "It certainly does," she said in wonder. "Who taught you how to find this spot?"

Jim took a deep breath and nervously said, "My foster brother."

Carol turned from contemplating the deck above her and looked at Jim with fresh eyes. "When did you have a foster brother?" she asked softly.

Jim glanced away nervously and said, "When I was twelve, my stepfather had some legal problems and my mother divorced him. But my brother and I had been on Earth with him, and she was away working on Tarsus IV, so children's services placed me with a family that was heading there to be colonists. They had a son my age, Tom Leighton. The trip took two months and when he got bored, he figured out where the sweet spot was." With a chuckle, he added, "I broke my wrist flipping."

A few major phrases stuck out in Carol's hearing. _Legal problems. Children's services. Tarsus IV . . ._ "There's more to that story, isn't there?" Carol said, gently.

"Yes there is," Jim admitted, "Much more. But, since we're here, do you want to flip a few more times before you ask more questions?"

Carol considered probing. _It was clearly hard for him to even tell you this much_ , she thought. _Maybe you should play along._ "I do want to flip again," she admitted with a smile. "Just as soon as I get an upside-down kiss." So they kissed for a little while. Then Jim showed her how to get back to the catwalk – basically, the trick was to jump, and then try to flip over when you felt weightless – and the couple did it a few more times. First separately, then holding hands, then while whooping like children.

The nausea hit Carol on flip number six. "Whoa," she said, grabbing the railing for balance. That left her staring at the drop down to the deck of the cargo hold, and the sight suddenly made her feel dizzy. Overwhelmed, she could only grunt, "Ugh." She swallowed hard and willed her stomach to settle down without ending up on the floor.

"Are you all right?" Jim asked anxiously, laying a hand between her shoulder blades. "What can I do?"

Carol shook her head to clear some of the blood rushing in her ears. "I think that was one flip too many," she said weakly. "I got dizzy, that's all."

"Oh no," said Jim, with concern clear in his voice. "Here, sit on the catwalk," he suggested, supporting her with both hands as she lowered to the platform. "We should've paced ourselves better," he said anxiously, "Should you put your head between your knees?"

"No, I really don't think that's necessary, I'll be fine if I can just," Carol paused for air, "Catch my breath." She blinked and slowly counted to twenty; the lightheadedness seemed to improve, just slightly. _He's cute when he's worried about me_ , she thought woozily _._ Then she realized that she was hungry. "I must not have eaten enough at dinner," she told Jim, "Right now, I feel like I really need some crackers and a cup of tea."

Jim sighed in relief. "Oh good, I can get both of those things without having to explain to sickbay how I managed to give you vertigo at midnight," he said, worry dissipating from his tone. "Can you walk? Mess hall 8 is on this same deck."

(Once they'd had tea and crackers and a chance to go back to bed, they both ranked the "gravitational sweet spot" as one of their top ten dates.)

By the time they'd been a couple for two months, though, Jim was running out of fresh ideas. So he was relieved when a text message popped up on his PADD one morning, from Carol, saying, "Let's just meet up for a drink and a chat tonight. I have something important to tell you." Relieved, curious, and maybe a little concerned.

"That sounds great," he texted back.


	16. Chapter 16

That evening, Carol headed to the forward lounge after her shift. Her heart was fluttering, and not in a good way. She knew this news wasn't going to be easy to break.

For the benefit of the scattered crewmen sitting around, they carefully pretended the drink they were having was casual. It was only synthehol, anyway, such as any two random officers might raise in toast after a good day. "Nothing exploded today," Carol said, raising her glass. "Here's to that."

"Hear, hear," Jim said, clinking his glass against hers. "Is it just me, or are days like that getting rarer?"

Carol chuckled. "I think it's your bad habit of getting into trouble, personally. Things tend to explode around you."

"Yeah, I do have that effect on . . . engines, plant life, oxygen tanks, and blobby creatures," Jim agreed with a laugh. "By the way, did you like Mildred Doyle?"

"I did," Carol said. "But I think my next favorite book should be a little lighter in tone."

"I'll see what I can find," Jim said. "So, your message said you had something important to tell me?"

Carol drained her drink in one gulp. _Ugh, that tastes even worse than usual._ "Yes. I got a transmission from Earth this morning. Carnegie Mellon accepted me."

Jim's good mood felt the way a pot of boiling water must feel when an ice cube falls in it. "Oh," he said, then mentally kicked himself. He forced a smile and said, "That's great news, Carol. I'm happy for you. Come on, let's have another drink to toast that." He stood up to grab more shots at the bar.

"Uh, just some lemonade for me, please. I have to fill out enrollment paperwork tonight and I need a clear head," Carol explained.

"No problem. Lemonade it is," Jim said, still smiling. As he walked to the bar he asked himself, _why are you feeling so weird? What did you expect, she'd want to settle down with you? Aboard the_ Enterprise, _no less?_ "Two glasses of lemonade, please," he told the bartender.

Back at the table, he said, "So, when do you leave?"

Carol took a sip of her drink. "I haven't figured that out yet. I need to talk to Nav about which ships we can expect to be within rendezvous distance sometime in the next three months. Maybe one of them is heading straight to Earth, or heading somewhere that I can find a ship that's heading to another ship that's heading to another ship that's going to Earth. Heaven only knows how complicated this is going to get."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Jim said. _Three months, maximum._ "Are you going to keep working up until you can get on another ship, or . . . ?"

"No," Carol said firmly. "I have to start doing the background reading now if there's any hope of finishing this doctorate in under a decade. As soon as I figure out my route home, I'll hand in my resignation and hit the books."

"That makes sense," Jim said, and then he couldn't wait any longer. "Where does this leave us?" he asked, and it sounded more demanding than he wanted it to.

Carol raised her eyebrows as she took another sip. "Well, are you going to resign your commission and come back to Earth?"

Jim laughed, though she looked serious. "Um, no," he said, "I don't think I can." _This job is the only thing I'm good at, other than flirting._

Carol nodded. She looked sad, but resigned as she said, "Then, this leaves us coming to an end. We're going to be walking two different paths from here on out."

 _You knew this would happen_ , Jim reminded himself. "All right. Well, um, I mean, I'll be sorry to see you go, because I've had fun these last two months. But I'm sure you'll be awesome at your next big project. Just like you've been great here. Professionally, I mean. And personally." _Why is my tongue suddenly failing me?_

Carol, blessedly, seemed to know what he was saying. She smiled warmly and said, "I'll be sorry to leave you too, Jim. But this is the right thing to do, for me. I don't think I can draft one more report about the status of our torpedoes without getting sick to my stomach."

"And we can't have that," Jim said with a slightly forced smile.

Carol could tell he was more upset than he was letting on. _Which is fine, because so am I,_ she reflected. _Who would've guessed that leaving him would be so hard?_ "I'd like it if we could keep in touch," she offered hopefully. "I can send you messages about all the monsters I'm cooking up, and you can send me messages about all the first contacts you're making. Maybe our lives will intersect again, who knows."

Jim's smile looked much more genuine now. "I'd love that," he said, "It'll be nice to have someone to write home to."

"Then here's to future possibilities," Carol said with a glowing smile. She raised her glass of lemonade.

In the corner of the bar, a crewman had tapped the music system to life. The opening bars of a song filled the room, with a vocalist singing, "So much was in that moment when we said goodbye . . ." Kirk recognized the piece, and remembered the kinds of things about it that only music history buffs ever care about. Thoughts such as, _updated version of a 20_ _th_ _-century jazz classic, had a resurgence of popularity after its inclusion in several successful movies of the early 21_ _st_ _century, lyrics have been set to a variety of musical tunes and styles, most recently updated and recorded by a singing group native to Mars,_ floated through his mind.

The music gave Kirk an idea. "May I have this dance, for old time's sake?" he asked Carol.

"Why not," she said, taking his hand.

On the dance floor, he whispered, "I really will miss you."

A long minute passed. Just when he was starting to tell himself she hadn't heard, Carol whispered back, "I'll miss you too."

The song kept going. "I'll see you in the morning sun and when the night is through, I'll be looking at the moon . . . but I'll be seeing you."

* * *

It was, somewhere in the universe, Monday morning. "There are a few personnel matters that require your approval, Captain," Spock said as he handed over the PADD. Kirk glanced over the list – so-and-so moving from alpha shift to delta shift, one scientist's experiment transferring from Science Lab Four to Science Lab Two – until one name caught his eye. He'd known it would be there, but he also knew Spock would expect a reaction.

"So Dr. Marcus is leaving us?" he remarked casually.

"So it seems, sir. She has decided to pursue a second doctorate, this time at Carnegie Mellon University," Spock replied.

"Carnegie Mellon, huh? That's impressive. I'll have to congratulate her," Jim said as he thumbed through the rest of the personnel notices.

Spock lowered his voice and asked, "I hope Dr. Marcus's departure will not create any difficult situations for you, in light of your personal relationship."

"Oh, don't worry about that. We ended things like adults," Jim answered, also speaking quietly. In a normal tone he added, "Did she mention how she's planning to get back to Earth?"

"The science ship _Atlantis_ is beginning its return journey after two years of exploration. In eleven standard weeks, their path will cross ours. Dr. Marcus has arranged to transfer at that time," Spock explained.

"Ah. Maybe we'll have to have a small gathering of senior officers, to wish her well," Jim said. "The rest of this is all in order. I've approved them all. Thank you, Spock."


	17. Chapter 17

Later that week, Jim stepped through the doors of his own quarters, looking forward to a shower and - he hoped - half an hour of relative quiet before someone came up with another crisis for him to solve. It had been a moderately difficult day, in that the away team's mission had gone horribly wrong and six crewmembers had been kidnapped by hostile locals. Since he had actually decided to stay on board the ship, for once, that had left him in the painfully awkward position of being a captain who can't rush to his crew's rescue. The feeling of helplessness, Jim thought, was the only thing he'd ever felt that was worse than facing death.

In the end, though, no one had actually died, and it looked like all the injuries were minor. He'd ordered Spock not to say a word about debriefings until everyone involved had had a chance to sleep, and visited sickbay to check on the wounded. But after the third time that McCoy repeated, "you need rest as much as they do!" and suggested "you should go decompress in your own quarters," he'd been forced to agree that a few moments to himself sounded nice.

"Hello, Jim," Carol Marcus said from inside the room. "How was your day?"

Starfleet captains don't jump at sudden noises, but that was definitely startling. Jim was momentarily at a loss for words, and stood in the entryway, blinking at the blonde doctor sitting at his table. "Uh, hi, Carol," he stammered. "My day was awful. How was yours?"

Carol did not react to the question. Instead, she said, "Can you sit down for a minute? I have something I need to tell you."

"You broke into my room to tell me something? Why would you need to do that? And how did you even get in?" Jim asked, not moving from the doorway.

Carol tilted her head quizzically. "Don't you think you're the wrong person to be asking why I might want to sneak into your room? If nothing else, revenge is an obvious motive," she said. Jim thought she might be joking, even though her tone was unamused. "As for how," Carol continued, "Dr. McCoy gave me the medical override code."

"BONES let you in?" Kirk said, even more confused now. "Carol, what the hell is going on?"

"I'm going to explain everything," Carol said. "But I need you to sit down first."

Kirk gave up, right then, on understanding Bones, or women, or anything. "Fine," he sighed, walking over and plopping into a chair. "I'm sitting. Now would you mind telling me -"

"I'm pregnant," Carol interrupted. "Dr. McCoy confirmed it this afternoon. When I told him who the father was, he said I should meet you here and tell you privately."

That took a little while to sink in. Whether it was a few moments or an hour, James Kirk couldn't have said with a phaser to his head. "You're what?" he said. (Later on, he would reflect that that belonged in some kind of hall of fame for stupid responses.)

"Pregnant. Expecting. With child. I have a tiny human growing inside me," Carol said, obviously slightly impatient.

"No, that's not what I'm - Uh, I mean - I know what the word means, Carol," Jim said, struggling to pull his thoughts together. "I'm trying to ask, uh, I mean, you're trying to tell me it's mine?"

Carol sighed with a mixture of relief and exasperation. She said, "Yes. I was hoping you'd catch on to that, based on the fact that I just said you were the father."

"Okay, okay, just give me a chance to, uh, absorb this, okay?" Jim managed to say. "This is pretty much the biggest news I've ever heard in my entire life. I need a second."

"All right," Carol said more calmly. In a softer tone, she said, "I get it. I was shocked too, but I've had two hours to adjust. Take a minute."

"I might need the whole two hours," he said, but the joke fell flat on its face.

They sat in silence. The clock on the wall behind Carol's head switched from 21:01 to 21:02 and then 21:03. Jim tried to put his questions in order of importance, but there were just too many for him to get them straight. "How did this happen?" he blurted out, then instantly regretted it. "Um, I mean besides the obvious. I thought we were safe?"

"The female shots work in 98% of cases. Apparently I'm – uh, we're the 2%. And since you're allergic to everything they give to men, there was no backup," Carol explained. "But how it happened hardly matters, now that it's happened."

"Right. Well. This still officially goes on the list of strange situations my allergies have caused, though," Jim said, aware that he was rambling but not sure what else to do.

Carol gave a little half-smile. "Frankly, I'm surprised it took statistics this long to catch up with you. I mean, you've had sixty-three other women."

"Sixty-three other people," Jim corrected. "I'm sorry, I haven't even asked how you're feeling."

"Physically or emotionally?" Carol asked dryly.

"Either. Both. I don't know."

She chuckled. "All right, we have to start somewhere. So far, I'm physically fine. I'm not having any morning sickness. Although my nose won't clear, I've gained more weight in the last two weeks than I thought possible, and I've been randomly crying for no reason at all. Apparently that all counts as normal, for a pregnant woman. As for emotionally," she paused to consider, "Well, I'm all over the scale, really. I absolutely did not expect this. I should've started to suspect something earlier, but I just couldn't even believe it, let alone process whether I was happy or sad."

Still wrestling with his own confusion, Jim could honestly say, "I know the feeling." There was another long moment of silence before he mustered up the courage to say, "So, have you decided what you're going to do?" He tried to tamp down his hope and remind himself of the reality of the situation.

"I have," Carol said, a nervous smile on her face. "You know, I always wanted to have children someday. And I kept thinking 'oh, when I'm settled in my career' or 'oh, when Wissam and I get married,' but none of that ever happened. So now I figure, well, no time like the present." She took a deep breath and said, "I'm having a baby."

Jim could only identify a few of the many emotions flooding over him at the moment. Relief was in there, and excitement, along with worry and even a tiny bit of fear. He forced himself to say, "Congratulations!" Then he added, "Now, what do you want my role to be in all of this?"

"I'm still leaving," Carol said, "So you don't have to be involved at all, if you don't want to. I can do this on my own."

Jim nodded. "Okay, but I didn't ask you what I had to do. I asked, what do you want me to do?"

Carol bit her lip and thought for a moment, then said, "You won't ever leave Starfleet. You'll be far away no matter what. So I want you to keep your distance. Let me raise the kid in my world."

Jim almost, _almost_ , said that she was wrong, that he'd leave Starfleet for her and go back to Earth to raise their baby. But even as he opened his mouth, he felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving his ship. After he'd gotten back this command, he'd sworn to himself he'd always do it justice. And hadn't he? Hadn't he once overcome the sedation of a dopamine-enhancing plant because he realized she was in danger? Hadn't Bones been telling him "you love the _Enterprise_ more than you've ever loved anyone"? Hadn't he actually  died saving her, just last year? And right then, he realized Carol was right to think that he wouldn't leave to raise a baby. He couldn't leave at all.

 _It's confusing when other people know me better than I know myself,_ he thought ruefully. "All right," he said. "If that's really what you want. Put my name on the certificate, though. At least do that."

Carol shook her head. "We don't have to . . ."

"No, we don't, but I want you to," Jim insisted.

"Why? It won't change much," Carol said.

"No, not much. Except that the baby gets my pension if I die in the line of duty, he or she will be eligible for Starfleet benefits and funding, and if anything ever happens to you the kid won't get sent to foster care. But other than that, not much," Jim said flatly.

Carol opened her mouth as if to object, then paused, clearly thinking it over. "Okay, those are decent points," she admitted. "But are you sure you want to risk it? If Starfleet finds out you impregnated a junior officer, you could get demoted. Again."

Jim bit his lip and thought that over. Officially, he'd only gotten Spock's permission to see Carol socially, not naked. _I don't even want to think about what he's going to say when I tell him._ "How far along are you, exactly?" he asked.

"McCoy estimated nine weeks," Carol said. "So there's no pretending we conceived after I handed in my resignation."

 _It happened that first week._ "You told me you were planning to leave," he said. "You told me back when you were preparing your applications for transmission. I knew you were planning to resign. That's what we can tell people, at least. And by the time you deliver, you won't be Starfleet anymore, so it's not like they can court-martial you."

"And what about you?" Carol said. "You'll still be a captain."

Jim quickly said, "Yes. The youngest captain ever, hero of two separate near-apocalyptic attacks, and one of only 400 cadets who survived both my graduating class and the attack on Starfleet command. Do you really think they want to recall me from the black and drag my name through the mud over having a baby with an ex-Starfleet officer, when we're in a personnel crisis as it is?"

Carol ran a hand through her hair, and leaned forward onto the table. "All right, I give up. I'll put your name on the certificate if it really means that much to you."

"It does," Jim said with a nod. "Also, I'm going to pay support. That's the least I can do."

"You don't have to –"

"Will you stop telling me what I don't have to do?" Jim said, sharply. "I want to!"

Carol put her hand on her stomach. "This baby's going to be a Federation citizen. He'll get Minimum Basic Living from the moment he comes out. And besides which, I'll be making more than you in civilian research."

"Once you graduate, you might," Jim said. "For the next three or five years, you're going to live on MBL. Which will exactly cover a roof over your head and food in your belly. Nothing left for toys, or for a babysitter when you've got exams to study for, or for . . . I don't know, whatever children need. Whatever you need. And I'm in Starfleet, probably for life, which means I don't have to pay for clothes, food, or a house. My salary's sitting in the bank doing nothing. I'd rather that 20% of it go to our child."

"Heh," Carol whispered with a smile, but there were tears in her eyes. "I . . . I never guessed you'd want to be this generous, Jim. Not that I'm complaining. I just . . . some men would hear 'I don't need your help' and not stick around to hear any more."

Jim pulled a Starfleet-issue handkerchief from his pocket and passed it over. "Some people might," he conceded. "But if there's going to be a tiny human being with half my genes, I want to be at least tangentially involved. Call me old-fashioned."

"You're old-fashioned," Carol said, blowing her nose.

Jim smiled. "Since I'm being old-fashioned anyway," he said, "I hope you'll let me keep in touch with the baby. I'd like to, you know. Visit, when I'm on Earth. See pictures. Make sure Christmas presents get delivered. Send video messages. I won't mention who I am in them if you don't want me to. Someday, though, the kid will ask who her father is, and it might be easier to explain if she at least knows of me."

"I think that's a good idea," Carol said, still wiping her eyes. "I mean, the kid's not going to have grandparents to send him videos or anything. You can be like his pen pal, or his godfather."

 _No grandparents on her side. Right._ "Um, my mother lives on earth," Jim said. "In New York. I'm sure she'd be willing to visit and help out, when the baby's first born. I don't want you to be all alone."

"Really? I've only met your mother once," Carol said.

"You've met her? When?" Jim asked, surprised.

"At the hospital, when you were comatose," Carol said. "I limped up from the orthopedics wing as soon as they released me, only to find both Dr. McCoy and your mother worried sick and looking like they were about to drop. Apparently your mother hadn't eaten in two days. I ended up volunteering to make a cafeteria run, so we could coax some applesauce into her. Afterwards, I spent a whole afternoon playing cards with her, just to pass the time." She made a strange face at the memory. "I guess we never thought to tell you, once you were awake."

"Huh," Jim said. For once, he didn't know what to say next. The image of Carol and Winona at a card table seemed completely out of place in his head. "My mom can't eat when she's worried. I'm the same way," he said, not quite knowing why he'd admitted that.

"Well, regardless, if we explain you're the mother of her grandchild, the hard part will be convincing her not to rush to your side. When my sister-in-law was pregnant, I practically had to knock her down and sit on her to keep her out of the delivery room. I think," he said, and hesitated to try to choose his next words, "I think she feels like she made mistakes with us, when we were kids, and now that we've gotten past that, as a family, she's gotten very into the 'grandma' role. If you let me call her, you'll definitely have one grandparent for your baby."

Carol nodded thoughtfully. "I'll think about it," she said.

"Okay." There was silence for a minute. Jim's emotions were in a state of disaster, but he decided to continue smushing them for now and deal with them later. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" he asked.

"Dr. McCoy said he couldn't tell me for another three weeks."

"Can I come with you? For that scan? I'd like to know," Jim said hopefully.

Carol shrugged. "Why not."

"All right," Jim said. "Do you need anything, right now?"

"I'd take some popcorn," Carol said with a smile. "Nothing like being pregnant to make a woman crave earth food."

"Coming right up," Jim declared. He jumped up to get the snacks out of the cabinet. "Actually, there's more earth food in here. Dried apricots and some beef jerky and a frozen zeppole and the chocolates, of course. You can take your pick." _The mother of my child can have whatever she wants_.


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's note: Some people have asked me what the title of this story refers to, and now I can finally tell you all. Sweet waiting ("essere in dolce attesa") is the Italian equivalent of "expecting". The big twist = is that Carol's been pregnant since almost the beginning of the story. Anyway, thank you all for following/favoriting/reviewing/messaging me about this story. I haven't written for** _ **Star Trek**_ **before and it's great getting to connect with fellow fans.**

* * *

The door chime sounded and Jim didn't have to guess who it was. "Come in, Bones," he called. The doors swished open.

"Thought you might need some Irish coffee," Bones said.

"No kidding. Hey, the next time you send a pregnant woman to my room to tell me I'm a father, would you mind warning me first?"

Bones waved away the complaint. "How about the next time I'm about to find out you're a father, you at least let me know you've been with the woman in question?" he grumbled. "Think how stupid I felt, finding out you'd slipped a spark past the shields before I even knew you liked Carol."

"Oh, don't exaggerate. You knew I liked her," Jim said, rolling his eyes.

"I didn't know you'd been seeing her," Bones shot back.

"Seeing her?" Jim asked, raising his eyebrows. "That's one word for it."

Bones sat down at the table and said, with a shrug, "I figured you didn't wanna hear any of the more colorful metaphors I could've used, right now."

Jim sighed. "Just hand over the coffee," he said. "It's been a hell of a day."

"I bet," Bones said as he poured. "How you feeling?"

Jim took a swallow of the whiskey and coffee. "Excited. Worried. Guilty. Confused. How's a man supposed to feel?" he asked. He didn't add, _and yet I feel as if I'm already in love._ Out loud he said, "I'd made my peace with her decision to leave. Then, wham, turns out she's leaving with my baby." He drank some more and added, "And considering I fucking died of radiation poisoning last year, I didn't even think that was possible!"

"You just don't listen when I talk," Bones said, feigning an exhausted tone. "I told you your sperm count was in normal ranges, back when we were running every test in the galaxy to figure out if that transfusion trick could ever be replicated."

Jim grimaced at the memory of all the poking and prodding and humiliating requests. "Yeah, but how was I supposed to know that was going to be the most important result in the pile?" he protested. Bones rolled his eyes, and gave Jim a look that clearly shouted _do I really have to tell you?_ "Never mind, don't answer that," Jim said.

"I guess I shouldn't bust your balls. This has been a day full of surprises," Bones said as he leaned forward and poured more coffee into Jim's mug. He could tell his old friend was driving himself crazy, mulling this news over. "I've started Carol on the right vitamins and increased her rations. So you don't have to worry about her health, at least," he said, in an attempt to be reassuring.

Jim nodded in acknowledgement but didn't answer. Determined to break the mood, McCoy said, "Well, as your doctor and your friend, I insist you provide me with some details of how this happened."

Jim's mischievous look broke through. "At your age, Bones? Well, Carol and I had no clothes on and it seemed like there were only a few ways for things to go from there, so I – "

"Oh, shush, you know I didn't mean those kind of details," Bones grumbled good-naturedly. "I mean, well, how long have you two been sc—uh, sleeping together? And how did this get started?"

Jim shrugged. "We must've started about ten weeks ago, if she's nine weeks along," he said. Inwardly he reflected, _and we either conceived this baby on that bed right there, or up against the wall of the botany department._ "I bumped into her in the forward lounge one night, we shared a drink, got to talking, and I guess we just connected. Up until last week we'd been seeing each other every few days," he added. "But I kept it quiet. If the rumor mill knew she'd slept with her captain, then people would question every assignment and promotion she ever got."

"Why James T. Kirk, I think you might be developing some sensitivity towards women's feelings," Bones commented. "Still, though," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "it was only a matter of time before your womanizing caught up to you and someone got pregnant. I'm surprised Carol is the first."

Jim gulped down more of the coffee. He hardly needed the caffeine, but the alcohol tasted like mother's milk. "She isn't," he said, staring into his drink.

Bones looked at his friend quizzically. "What's that mean? If she's not first, what number is she?"

"Second," Jim said, still not looking up from the drink. "As far as I know."

"How come you never told me about the first?" Bones asked. "How is that literally the only part of your life that never came up after all these years?"

Jim shrugged. "It was before I met you, back in Iowa."

Bones took another drink, a strange look on his face. "I'm guessing you haven't been hiding a Kirk, Jr., the entire time I've known you."

Jim laughed nervously. "I was a mess in those days, Bones. No family-oriented woman would've touched me with a ten-foot pole." He shrugged. "The only thing Barbra asked me for was a ride to the doctor's to end it. We haven't spoken since I dropped her off at home after, which is probably for the best. We didn't get along too well."

Bones grunted. "Sounds like it wasn't exactly a love story," he muttered.

"It wasn't," Jim said firmly. "Once in a while it occurs to me, 'hey, I could have an eight-year-old right now,' but then I remind myself," he took a breath before adding, "That if I'd started a family back then, I never would've left Iowa. I wouldn't have my ship, I wouldn't be here with you."

"Fair enough," Bones said. He refilled Jim's drink, and said, "So, what are you thinking now, about starting a family?"

Jim looked at his friend and said, "That I'm not. Carol doesn't want me to be the 'dad'. She wants me to keep my distance. Which should be easy, considering we have another four years to go in deep space."

"Oh, bullshit," Bones said. "You're passing on your blood. The kid might get your eyes, maybe your nose, maybe your smarts, maybe your predilection for danger. Part of that nonsense is genetic, anyway. Even if you never meet, this kid'll still be yours." He took a gulp of his drink. "And I know you too well to believe that it's going to be easy for you to keep your distance from your family. Unless you're planning to pretend that the baby doesn't exist?" he added accusingly.

"I would never do that," Jim exclaimed. "I helped make the child, and I will never deny him. Or her." He sighed and looked away, towards his desk. There were no family photos on the desk, not even one of his nephew. He tried to imagine having baby pictures on it, but the image wouldn't come together in his head. "No, it won't be easy to stay away," he said. "But Carol's made it clear she wants to raise the child her way, in her world, and I respect her decision too much to try to argue. Which is why I've asked Carol if I can send video messages. Even if I don't call myself 'dad' in them, my child will know my face. And I'll be on the certificate and I'll send support. I'm fine – " he broke off, considered, and finally said, "I'll make myself be fine with that arrangement. Because if I get pushy about it, then I'll either have to resign my commission and go home to be a proper father, or just be a pain in everyone's neck for the next two decades." _And because if I don't respect her choices, I don't respect her._

Bones regarded his friend, surprised by the fervor – though not the sentiments – of this outburst. "Who the hell is 'everyone'?" he asked.

Jim rubbed his cheek and chin in an irritated gesture. "Carol. And whoever she ends up with, if there's someone."

Bones looked at Jim, brown eyes piercing blue eyes, and asked, "Do you want that someone to be you?"

Jim tilted the cup of coffee, which was cooling down, swirling the liquid inside. "Maybe in another lifetime. But I couldn't make her happy and stay in space. So there's no point in what-ifs." There was a long moment of silence.

Bones's tone was a little lighter when he said, "I wonder, I do wonder, what the other you in Ambassador Spock's alternate universe did, when this happened. If this happened at all. Maybe Carol Marcus was somebody else or maybe she didn't exist."

Jim smiled at the joke. "If that's so, then I'm happy I live in this universe, for once. I'm happy I met Carol Marcus." He stood up and went over to his desk. He looked at the only decorative item he had on it: a snowglobe with Earth's solar system inside. It had been a going away present from his mother. He shook the globe and set it down, watching the tiny snowflakes fall on Mars, on Jupiter, on Earth. "And I can't say I didn't enjoy the part where we accidentally made a baby," he said, a tiny laugh bubbling up from his heart. "I try never to regret a love affair. I just . . . I especially hope I never live to regret this one."

"I'll drink to that," Bones said, lifting his drink. Jim came back to the table and lifted his cup for the toast.


	19. Chapter 19

**Recordings taken from the** _ **Enterprise's**_ **intra-ship email system, 2260**

Hi Carol,

I've attached a copy of my family medical history, in case it becomes relevant. I've also given Dr. McCoy permission to include a copy with your official medical record, so it can go with you when you leave Starfleet. Let me know if you need any more details on any of this stuff. It's mostly harmless.

Love,

Jim

* * *

Hi Jim,

Sheesh, how many males in your family are going to develop severe allergies before survival of the fittest catches up with you?

Love,

Carol

* * *

Just a few more.

By the way, I looked up the regulations around pregnancy on a starship. Looks like I'm authorized to rearrange room assignments and put you next to Sickbay, to take advantage of the extra shielding. It would be smaller than where you are now, but if you're nervous about our little VIP, I'll happily order an Ensign to swap with you.

Love,

Jim

* * *

Hi Jim,

Given how often you manage to blow things up on this ship, I think that would be a good idea.

Love,

Carol

* * *

 **From** : **Captain James T. Kirk**

 **To: Ensign Ford**

Congratulations, Ensign, you're getting an accommodations upgrade. A lieutenant is pregnant and needs to be on a heavily shielded deck. Your new assignment is cabin 10-4-6-1.

* * *

Jim,

Ensign Ford just cornered me in the mess hall and congratulated me. I've sworn her to secrecy, but something tells me our "happy news" will be all over the ship by morning. Do you think you could tell slightly fewer people, at least during the first trimester? In case something goes wrong?

-Carol

* * *

Sorry. But nothing's going to go wrong. Bones and I won't let it.

You're all set to move tomorrow morning. I'll be there at 8 to carry everything. Unless you need me sooner to help you pack?

Love, Jim

* * *

I barely even have a full duffel. I can carry it on my own.

Love, Carol

* * *

Over my dead body. (I could easily make that literal!)

Love, Jim

* * *

8 is fine.

Love, Carol


	20. Chapter 20

Carol's doors swished open in response to Jim's chime. "Morning," he said as he stepped in. "How are you feeling?"

"Never been better," Carol said with a smile. "Some of the nervousness seems to be turning into excitement." She came over to the doorway and gave Jim a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for offering to help me move."

"No problem," Jim said. "Are you all packed?"

"Uh-huh. I turned in all my uniforms already, so now everything I own is in one standard-size Starfleet-issued duffel," she said, with a wave at the bag on her bunk. "I won't fit into any of it in another two months, but I guess I'll take it with me for now and figure out what to do with it when I get back to Earth."

"Speaking of Earth, I have a present for you," Jim said. "Sort of a housewarming gift, for your new quarters." He held out a small package.

Carol smiled knowingly. _Wonder what kind of present the etiquette experts recommend for your baby's mother_ , she thought. "Thanks," she said out loud. She took the package and said, "I'll open it when we get down there, all right?"

"Good plan," Jim said. He shouldered her duffel bag easily and said, "Lead the way, Carol."

They walked together to the turbolift and rode down to deck 5. Somehow, they managed to pass twenty crewmembers in the hallway. _Are we having a parade or something?_ Carol thought in annoyance. Fortunately, only one or two was visibly surprised to see the two of them together. _We may yet manage to keep this story quiet for another day. Hopefully!_

"Here we are. Room 5-1-8-4," Jim announced. "Home sweet home." _For eleven more weeks._ Carol rang the chime and Ensign Eileen Ford answered, her own duffel bag over her shoulder.

"Morning, Eileen," Carol said. "Thanks for swapping with me."

"Oh, it's my pleasure," Eileen answered. She looked at Captain James T. Kirk, carrying Carol's bag, and mercifully decided not to comment. "I'm happy for the temporary upgrade. Besides which, you've got precious cargo to protect." She stepped into the hallway and quickly tapped in the code for authorization transfer. Carol typed in her new lock code, and the computer announced TRANSFER SUCCESSFUL.

Eileen added, "You share a bathroom with Ensign Amr. She prefers to shower in the mornings. Best of luck with working out those schedules." She smiled. "Anyway, I'm off to claim your old room. Let me know if you need anything!" And she marched off towards the turbolift, smiling all the way.

Carol led the way into her new home. Jim hadn't been wrong when he described it as smaller than her other quarters; there was barely room for a half-size desk with computer terminal between the entrance and the bed. The door to her right had to be the shared bathroom. _Well. I'm not a lieutenant anymore. So of course I don't get lieutenant's quarters,_ Carol reminded herself. _Even if I weren't pregnant, they would've moved me to guest quarters soon enough._

Jim squeezed past her and dropped the duffel off on the bed. "Well, this is cozy," he said with a chuckle. "I'm sorry to say, it's been a while since I toured the Ensign quarters. I didn't remember. If you're reconsidering…"

"No," Carol cut him off. "No, this is fine. It'll be easier to keep clean while I'm busy oversleeping and studying." She forced a smile. "Now, let's see what I got for a housewarming gift!" She gestured for Jim to sit on the bed while she took the desk chair. She ripped open the wrapping paper to reveal . . .

A book?

Yes, it was, a physical, antique paper book. Carol's first thought was, _this must have cost a fortune_. Then she realized, _no, this isn't new, it's from his personal collection._ The cover showed a painting of an urban street: road, buildings on either side, bridge in the distance, a single tree pushing up through the sidewalk. The title was  A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

Carol lifted it carefully, reverently. She'd only owned three paper books in her entire life, and she didn't have any of them anymore. _This will be one-of-a-kind._ "Jim, this is . . . it's too much," she whispered.

Jim waved her off. "Don't be silly. You deserve it," he said. "I saw it on the list of potential books that might be your new favorite, and I suddenly realized, 'hey, I already own that one!' It was my grandmother's copy. She wrote her literature thesis on the great coming-of-age stories of the last 500 years, that's why she had it."

"You can't give away your grandmother's books," Carol protested.

"I don't like it when people tell me I can't do something," Jim teased. "It only makes me dig my heels in. But seriously, please accept the book. You can give it to our son or daughter someday. An inheritance from the Kirk side of the family."

"All . . . all right, Jim, if you really want me to have this," Carol said, still a little unsure. She carefully opened the front cover and looked at the publication date. "1943? Seriously? That's . . . World War II, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but it's not about the war. It's set thirty years earlier. Historians aren't sure how much of it is based on a true story, but the author grew up in the neighborhood where it takes place," Jim said. "I read it when I was nine or ten. You might not guess it, but for a while I was the kind of bookworm who would read anything that didn't have an unbreakable parental lock on it." He smiled and added, "It's not very appropriate for children. This book is where I learned what a fetish is."

Carol laughed, "Well, I guess you had to learn somewhere." She turned the book over and read the plot summary on the back. "I look forward to reading it," she said. She looked up at Jim and smiled. "Do you want to join me for breakfast? I'm starving."

"Of course," Jim said. He jumped to his feet and offered her his hand to help her up.


	21. Chapter 21

**Hello readers! I'm back from a short trip I had to take. If any of you live in Oklahoma, there's a play opening in Tulsa this week that you must see:** **Pryor Rendering** **. I saw it in OKC last weekend and it's amazing. Check it out at the Tulsa Performing Arts Center.**

* * *

Carol met Jim at the door of room 5-1-8-4, with tears in her eyes and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn in her hands. "Jim, I just finished. This is the most beautiful book I've ever read," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

Jim stepped forward and embraced her. The doors were still open and he was still the captain and yet, he didn't care who saw him hug Carol Marcus. It felt too right. "Glad you liked it," he said, "But why are you crying?"

"Who knows," Carol said, smiling as she stepped back a bit to look him in the eye. "My guess would be some combination of hormones and this book. I feel like I just rode a rollercoaster, with all the ups and downs in this story."

"Oh, good," Jim said, then quickly corrected, "I don't mean 'good that you're crying,' I mean, 'good that you're not upset about something.' I know the book is an emotional seesaw."

"Yeah, it's hard to read about such ruthless capitalism. Trying to feed the children on stale bread – how did people used to live like that?" Carol asked, shaking her head. "And to survive and love each other even when things are that bad, even though the father is an alcoholic . . . it's so beautiful."

"You're beautiful," Jim said impulsively. He hoped she'd take the compliment, even coming from an ex-boyfriend.

Carol's smile was hard to read. She wiped her eyes and asked, "Are we going to be late?"

Jim checked his watch. "Not if we leave now. It's a short walk," he said, "Are you ready?"

"Born ready," she said with a smile. She reached back to set the book on the desk and said, "Let's go."

They did not hold hands while they walked. People passing in the hallway might still notice that they were together, though, by the way Jim lowered his head slightly to listen to Carol whenever she spoke.

"I started looking at some of the MBL apartment options in Pittsburgh," she said, "I guess they're small compared to where I grew up, but sheesh, after almost two years on a starship they look like palaces. I can get a bedroom to myself, a nursery, a living room, a full kitchen, and I don't even have to share a bathroom!"

"That's good," Jim said, "My brother says that babies and their paraphernalia automatically expand to fill whatever space they're put in, though, so I bet it'll feel tiny once you're there."

"It couldn't," Carol said confidently, "And anyway, baby and I are going to be minimalists. Some people are good at shopping, but I'm not among them."

An image of a minimalist baby sprung to Jim's mind – wearing nothing but a diaper, sleeping in a box in a bare room – and he wasn't sure whether it was funny or not. "Won't your girlfriends want to throw you a shower, anyway?" he asked.

Carol shrugged noncommittally. "Maybe, but most of my close friends live off-planet. I'll set up one of those wishlist things so they can send gifts, but that still puts all the shopping pressure back on my shoulders."

"Oh," Jim said. "Well, maybe that's one thing my mother could help you with, if you decide to reach out to her. And here we are," he finished as they came to the right set of doors. Sickbay's entrance swished open, and they stepped through.

"Morning, Jim, morning, Carol," Dr. McCoy said casually, with only a hint of his usual gruffness. "Hope you all enjoyed breakfast. I skipped mine, personally." He gestured to a biobed towards the back of the bay, in one corner. "I'm all set up for you two back here. Carol, you lie down, Jim, you pull up a chair."

As the trio made their way there, Jim said, "Why'd you skip breakfast, Bones? This doesn't make you squeamish, does it?"

"Lord Jesus, no," Bones muttered. "I had to calibrate this scanner. It's been in its package since we left spacedock. Obstetrical equipment doesn't see much action aboard the _Enterprise,_ unlike my trauma kits, burn wraps, hyposprays, and supportive breathing equipment.  All of which we may as well inscribe with J-T-K because you need them on a rotating basis." Jim rolled his eyes, while Bones patted the biobed and said to Carol, "Hop up here, Carol, and get comfy. How have you been feeling?"

"Pretty well, all things considered. I've logged all my vitals for you," she said, handing over the record tape as she settled onto the biobed and hiked up her shirt.

"Good woman," Bones said amiably. With a tap on the button by the bed, Bones raised an opaque forcefield around them for privacy. "Now, this scanner here is brand new, as I said, so if it looks like the kid has two heads, I blame that," the doctor continued. "If it looks like the kid is a seahorse with legs, well, then, I blame Mother Nature's idiotic sense of humor." He grinned at his own joke and placed the scanner on Carol's abdomen. "Jim, will you please pull over a chair? The view is much better from the side, trust me on this," he added.

"Fine, Bones, whatever you say," Jim said, sitting down. He hoped that his nervous energy came across as the normal, Captain-Kirk-in-sickbay levels of anxiety.

"Atta boy," Bones said. "Now, let's see what Carol's cooking up." He switched on the scanner, and a 3D projection of Carol's kidneys hovered over the top. At least, Jim assumed those were her kidneys. They might also be the support structures under the biobed, for all he knew. _I don't work on Bones's side of the street_ , he thought. He watched as Bones fiddled with the scanner dials, zooming up and down through Carol's various body systems – or possibly through decks of the ship, Jim wasn't sure – until he finally stopped zooming and started adjusting the clarity of the image. "Carol, Jim, I'm pleased to present your twelve-week fetus," he announced as it finally snapped into focus.

Jim looked at the holographic image and many things went through his mind. _That does look like a seahorse. A_ _cute_ _seahorse. A cute seahorse with little hands and little feet and even littler fingers and toes . . . one, two, three – wait, never mind counting the toes. This seahorse has a face. It's looking at me! Wait no, that's silly, it can't see me. I can see it, though._ A surge of emotion went through his heart and he thought, _this is like falling in love, but so much stronger._ He realized that he'd reflexively reached out towards the hologram, and sheepishly drew his arm back. Carol noticed and reached over to take his hand.

Carol looked at the holographic image and many things went through her mind. _That's inside me. That's_ _part of me_ _._ _We_ _made_ _this little thing_ _and it looks kinda like a seahorse. But it's a baby. Christ, in six months it'll be a regular, squalling infant and I'll be up all night and wondering how I got into this mess. Yet I'll love it, I'll love it forever, because I'm already in love just looking at it._ A smile spread across her face, unbidden, and her eyes were suddenly watering. She looked at Jim and whispered, "It's beautiful."

"Yes, it is," Jim whispered back.

"Do you want to know the sex?" Bones said, his tone softer than Jim had heard in a long, long time.

"I do," Carol said, "But Jim, you could step out if . . . "

"No, I'm staying," Jim interrupted. "This is one strange new world I'd like to explore together."

Bones rolled his eyes. _Every expectant father thinks he's a poet_. He rotated and tilted the image, refocusing it as he went, until he could see between the tiny, barely formed legs. "Looks like it's a boy," he announced. "And, so far, a healthy one. No sign of any abnormalities or red flags. Though we'll have to repeat the scan after . . ."

His voice faded away behind the rushing sound in Jim's ears. _A boy. A son. That's my son._ He looked over at Carol, who was staring at the image with a goofy, love-struck grin on her face. _That's_ _our_ _son_ , he thought, and he gazed back at the image in wonder. _Our son is the most amazing thing I've ever seen._


	22. Chapter 22

Being captain of a starship had its perks. Sadly, Jim reflected, "unlimited rations of real-time calling" were not among them. He had one hour he could use this week, which meant thirty minutes each for the calls he had to make. He mentally ran over what he was planning to say, feeling how inadequate every word was. He was horrible at rehearsing speeches. They usually just occurred to him when he needed them. _Welp, here goes nothing, then,_ he thought as he punched in the hailing code. The beep-beep-beep of the standby signal only lasted a few seconds before his sister-in-law's hassled-looking face appeared on screen.

"Jimmy!" she said with a huge smile. "This is a surprise."

"Hi, Aurelan," Jim said, and he couldn't help the smile that crept up his face. She looked good like this, with her hair all mussed and a stain on her shirt. She looked like the mother of a toddler, and knowing that Sam had a son never ceased to thrill Jim. _And now I know that he must feel thrilled, too._ "From the looks of things, Peter has been rambunctious today," he commented. "Do you and Sam have a few seconds to chat?"

"I think you mean, do either Sam or I have a few seconds. These days, if one of us is free, the other one is holding Peter," Aurelan said with a slightly tired smile. "That kid's a runner."

Jim grinned. "I can't begin to imagine whose side of the family that comes from," he said jokingly. "Can I see him?"

"Sure. Hang on." Aurelan stood up and stepped away from the phone, going to the other side of the room and peeking around the corner. Jim heard her say, "Sam? Could you bring Peter out here? Jim's calling from the _Enterprise_." There was some muffled conversation, and then his brother stepped into the camera's frame. He was shirtless, covered in water, and carrying a toddler who was naked except for a towel. _So, I managed to call during bath time,_ Jim thought with a smile. _I have funny timing that way._ His nephew looked happy, and Jim wondered if it was because of the bath. He missed being able to bathe in water.

"Captain Kirk! My kid brother! You still look super weird in that gold uniform," Sam boomed. "Peter, wave hi to your Uncle Jim!" The little boy gave the screen a wary look and a half-hearted wave. Sam gave Jim a wink. "Little man here saw a scary show on the screen yesterday, and now he's being super shy around it," he explained.

"I see," Jim said in his best child-friendly tone. "It's okay, Peter, I'm not scary. It's just your Uncle Jim. Remember? From the birthday video?" Peter buried his head in Sam's shoulder.

Aurelan said, "Hey, why don't I get Peter dressed while you two Kirk boys catch up? I'm sure Jimmy has a lot to report on, Sam, or he wouldn't have called in real-time."

Jim watched as Sam handed Peter over and came to sit in front of the camera, toweling off his son's bathwater as he came. "Your wife is right," Jim admitted. "I have something important to tell you."

"Well, spit it out," Sam said. "We don't have all night."

"Well, uh, I started seeing a woman who's stationed on the _Enterprise_ ," Jim said nervously. "Her name is Carol Marcus. And, um, she's pregnant."

Sam's face broke into a huge smile. "Congratulations," he said. "That's a wonderful surprise. Though . . . I guess this mean's she's coming back to Earth, for the traditional two-year leave, at least?"

"For good," Jim said. "She's decided to leave Starfleet. Not because of the baby, just a coincidence."

Sam nodded and said, "Might be for the best . . . it'd be hard on the kid to have both parents off exploring strange new worlds. It'll make it harder for the two of you to maintain your relationship, though."

"About that," Jim said sheepishly, "We broke up."

Sam frowned disapprovingly and said, "You broke up with the mother of your child?"

"She's leaving me," Jim said defensively. "Because she wants to get her second doctorate and go into civilian work, which I fully support. We didn't know she was pregnant when we made that decision. But we've talked everything over. She wants to raise the baby in her world, but we're going to stay friendly and keep in touch. I'll visit when I can. I'll have some kind of a relationship with my kid." He shrugged nervously. "It's not ideal, but it is what it is."

Sam's frown had lessened, and he sounded sympathetic when he said, "Guess that's true. It is what it is."

Jim knew his brother well enough to guess at some of what was going through his head. Maybe he was doing some math and realizing that the baby would be three and a half before Jim's current mission was over. Maybe he was thinking about how much it sucked to have no father as a kid, and how much worse it was to have a terrible stepfather. Maybe he was wondering how Jim could stand not to drop everything and go straight back to Earth with Carol. _Actually, maybe those are the thoughts going through_ _my_ _head,_ Jim admitted to himself. "So . . . what's the news where you are?" Jim asked nervously, hoping to break the silence.

Sam shrugged. "Nothing much. Work's work. Peter's vocabulary is getting better. He said his first sentence last week," he told his brother.

"Really? What was it?"

"It was a tagline from a show he watches every day. 'We're going on an adventure!' Aurelan and I had to discuss whether quotes count towards milestones, and then we had to discuss whether this means we're letting Pete have too much time in front of screens," Sam said with a smile. "We're constantly wondering about that."

"Eh, there's no escaping screens, really," Jim said jokingly. "The whole world is one big screen. Especially on a starship."

"Yeah, pretty much," Sam said. "Listen, as your brother, I think I need some details about Carol Marcus. Where'd you two meet? What's she look like?"

 _She conned her way onto my ship in an attempt to expose the secret Starfleet program that later got me killed,_ Jim thought. "She was assigned to the _Enterprise_ just before the Khan incident, and decided to stay with us for the five-year mission," he told his brother. "She's blonde, blue eyes, shorter than me. I could uh, send you a picture if you want."

Sam nodded. "Sure, send a picture. But more to the point, how did you end up getting her pregnant?"

 _Why does everyone keep asking that?_ Jim asked himself, annoyed. His inner voice answered, _well, you weren't married, you weren't in an established relationship, you hadn't even known each other two years, and most couples don't take the step of starting a family unless one of the above applies. So yeah, people have questions._ Resigning himself, he told Sam, "She and I happened to bump into each other in a lounge one night. She shared a drink with me, we got to talking. It turned out it was her late father's birthday and she was miserable. So to cheer her up, I offered her one of the chocolates I brought from Earth. She came back to my room to get a piece."

Sam smiled and asked, with a twinkle in his eye, "The ones from that little shop in Brussels?"

"Yup, those are the ones," Jim said.

"Well I'll be," Sam said, "Who knew that when I bought you chocolates there all those years ago, I was actually giving you the means to seduce Carol Marcus?"

Jim smiled, remembering Sam standing in the doorway of the refugee processing center, a giant box of chocolates in his arms and a worried look on his face. Jim had been in a state of shock – as were all of the survivors, Winona included – and unable to choke down the "PlumpyPack" emergency rations that the doctors were trying to coax into him. He kept taking one bite and then trying to give the rest to Tom. The pieces of chocolate that Sam offered that day were the best thing Jim had tasted all year, and he'd loved that chocolate shop ever since. "You were giving me the means to stay alive," he reminded his brother, "And, yes, you were also inadvertently giving Carol the means to seduce me someday."

Jim watched as the implication sank in and his brother's smile grew wider and more teasing. "This just in," Sam said, mocking the style of a newscaster, "Captain James T. Kirk is the kind of man who gets turned on by the sight of women eating candy."

Jim laughed even as he blushed. "Not all women," he protested, "It was just – I mean – Carol's very hot. You'll see that in her picture." He glanced at the timer and added, "I only have 5 minutes left for this call. I still have to get in touch with Mom. Can you bring Peter and Aurelan back in so I can say goodnight?"

"Sure. But that's a rain check on this conversation. You're not getting out of telling the full story of how you got seduced by your own chocolates."

* * *

 **(Point of interest: PlumpyPack is a reference to Plumpy'nut food packs, which are a real-life product used to save starving children's lives, and are also, in my book, a miracle. I changed the name in the interest of avoiding trademark issues, and also because brand names will definitely shift into common noun status by the 23rd century.)**


	23. Chapter 23

Jim cut the link with his brother and drummed his fingers against the desk. That had gone about as well as he could hope. Sam was a family man in every sense of the phrase, and Jim had been a little worried he'd disapprove of his kid brother becoming an absent father. With that conversation out of the way, the next one seemed a bit less intimidating. A bit.

He tapped in the code, waited for the beep-beep-beep, and was rewarded with Winona Kirk's face on the screen. "Hi, Mom," he said with a smile.

"Jimmy," his mother said, her whole face lighting up, "This is an unexpected treat. Stand up, let me get a better look at you."

Jim rolled his eyes, but complied. They'd gone through this visual inspection on every call he'd made to her since they stopped living together. Before that, she'd settled for insisting he clean his plate at every meal. _I never want to be hungry again, and she never wants me to be hungry again. At least we have tandem goals._ "Happy, Mom? Do I look healthy enough for you? Or should I have Bones send you my most recent physical?" he teased.

"Oh, if I were only so lucky," Winona answered, "Bones never tells me anything."

"Yeah, well, something about doctor-patient confidentiality," Jim said as he sat back down. "How's the Big Apple?"

"Still big. Still shiny. Work at the lab is going well," Winona said, "But I'd bet you beans to credits that it's much less exciting than what you've done this week. Where are you?"

"Orbiting around a planet that hasn't been named yet," Jim said. "I can send you the approximate coordinates, if you're curious."

"That would be nice. It's strange for a mother to only know where half of her children are," Winona said. "But I think you didn't call me from wherever you are to discuss your location. What's going on?"

Jim swallowed and asked, "Do you remember Dr. Carol Marcus? I think you two met at the hospital, after I . . . I mean, when I was recovering."

Winona nodded. "Sure do. She brought me some applesauce and helped distract me from everything that was happening. Nice girl. Did her hip get back its full function, do you know?"

 _It sure looks fully functional to me._ "I think so," he said. "She's been doing fine on the voyage." There was an awkward pause as Jim tried to force himself to say what he'd called to say.

"So, what about Dr. Marcus?" Winona prompted.

 _Just come out with it,_ Jim told himself. _But I can't just blurt out to my mother that I knocked up someone under my command!_ His inner voice insisted. "She and I have been dating," Jim said carefully. "I mean, we were dating, for about two months. We broke up a few weeks ago because she's going back to Earth to get a second doctorate."

"Good for her," Winona said. She tilted her head quizzically. "Why are you telling me, though? Do you need advice on dealing with a breakup? Because I would think you're pretty good at that, Jimmy."

"No, Mom, it's not that," Jim said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. _What, does she think I'm some teenager still?_ "We found out . . . Carol's pregnant. We're uh, we're having a baby. Not  together, but she's having a baby and it's my baby too." _Aaand we're going to add that to the list of stupid things I've said this year._

Winona looked confused. "What does that mean?" she demanded.

 _Wish I knew_ , Jim thought. _We're making it up as we go along. Which is how I live my life, but I never thought I'd do that to a child._ "Well, she's headed back to Earth and I'm out here for a long time, so she asked me to let her raise the kid in her world. But I'm going to stay in touch, send the kid videos, visit whenever I can, act like a 'family friend' until my son or daughter is old enough to understand," he said. "It's not ideal, but it is what it is."

Winona looked away from the screen and rubbed her palms together. Jim recognized it as her "I'm thinking" pose, and gave her time to process. "So, am I a grandma to this baby, or not?" Winona finally asked.

 _Wish I knew that, too._ "I think you might be. See, Carol doesn't have any family left. So I told her I was sure you'd be willing to help her out, if she wants. She's thinking it over, but I think she'll say yes. I mean, she can't possibly expect to get all set up in a new home and take care of a new baby completely alone." _Can she?_

"Some mothers do," Winona said – no doubt remembering her days as a single mother, newly widowed and totally lost. Though at least she'd had her own mother for support, once she got back to earth. "But I agree, it wouldn't be the best plan. I'll help however I can. Do you think I could send Carol an introduction message, let her know I'm here for her?"

"I think that'd be a good idea," Jim said. "You're taking this in stride, Mom, thank you."

Winona chuckled. "Jimmy, I'm just glad you told me. I can easily imagine a world where you'd decide to keep this a secret."

"Really? I can't," Jim said, a flash of disappointment in his soul. _She doesn't have to understand you perfectly to still love you_ , he tried to remind himself. "Anyway, thank you for saying you'll help."

"No need to thank me. I'd be thrilled to have the chance to help," Winona said with a smile. "So, I know you don't have long to talk. Is there anything else going on?"

 _What more do you need?_ Jim thought it over and then said, "Well, I successfully infiltrated a Romulan warbird last month. That was fun." His mother's shocked expression made him laugh harder than anything had all month.


	24. Chapter 24

**Hello again my readers. I must warn you that the next few chapters will likely be slow in coming. I lost a treasured friend and mentor this week, after a very long and painful illness. Below is the last chapter that I wrote before my friend's passing. The next chapter will come whenever inspiration returns.**

* * *

"Mr. Spock, may I speak with you in my conference room before we transition to Beta shift?" Jim asked, wiping his palms on his pants. Somehow his First Officer's reaction was the thing that scared him the most, in spite of the friendship between them. As the months in space passed, Spock was beginning to be more flexible. Yet he still loved rules and regulations – to the extent that Vulcans loved anything – and thus Jim never enjoyed admitting when he'd broken several.

"Certainly, Captain," Spock said, standing up and straightening his shirt. He briskly led the way off the bridge and around the corner to the conference room, then gestured for the captain to enter first.

"Thanks," Jim said with a nod. He stepped in to the room and took his usual seat at the head of the table, while Spock took his place at Jim's right hand. The captain drummed his fingers on the table nervously and cast about for a good way to say this. _I should've picked a more casual setting. This room is so sterile._

"Do you have an urgent matter to discuss?" Spock prompted.

"Right. Uh, I wouldn't call it urgent, just important," Jim said. "So, you know how Dr. Marcus and I had been seeing one another?"

Spock nodded and said, "Indeed, Captain, it seemed that her company quite agreed with you."

Never one to miss one of Spock's explanations, Jim asked, "Oh really? How could you tell?"

"During the course of your relationship, I estimated that you demonstrated 20% more signs of feeling relaxed while on duty compared to the two months before your relationship began. Also, with the exception of the week where you were feigning insanity, instances of your expressing frustration decreased, to an average of twice per eight-hour shift."

 _Well, I was probably less frustrated in more ways than one_ , Jim thought, and he smiled a bit at the idea that the Vulcan had noticed. "Right. Well. Dr. Marcus is pregnant."

Spock raised his right eyebrow. "I am aware of that, Captain," he said. "The personnel department listed that as the official reason for her transfer to deck 5."

Jim almost laughed. _Of course my XO sits around reading reports from departments other than his. Of course he does._ Suppressing a twinge of annoyance at _this know-it-all Vulcan_ – at his  friend and colleague Mr. Spock, Jim said, "Okay, well, do you know who the father is?"

Spock answered, "Based on the timing, I surmised that you were likely the father."

"Oh." Jim felt very awkward suddenly. _Not only am I admitting to breaking fraternization regulations, but I'm telling him things he already knows. This conversation is pointless._ "Why didn't you say something?" he asked.

"I assumed that you and Dr. Marcus were engaging in the human tradition of not revealing a pregnancy until it had passed into the second trimester, and concluded that silence on the matter was the polite response," Spock said. "Now, I believe, is the appropriate time to say, 'congratulations.' Apparently it is also traditional for friends of the expectant father to make jokes about his potency, which practice I could engage in if you so desire."

Jim actually did laugh out loud at that – _Spock, making a sex joke? I should sell tickets –_ but he told his friend, "No, that won't be necessary. Just the 'congratulations' part is fine. Also, if you feel compelled to include a note about this in your log, you have my blessing to do so." _And damn the consequences, because I won't deny my son._

Spock appeared to choose his words carefully as he said, "I would be remiss if I did not report on any key news that affects the ship's captain. In the interest of Dr. Marcus's privacy, however, I believe it would be inappropriate to delve into the precise timing of this child's conception. I shall report only that you have informed me today."

Jim breathed a sigh of relief. "That sounds perfectly fair," he said. "Thank you, Spock."

"Are you aware yet of the biological sex of your unborn child?" Spock said.

Jim thought, _he is trying so hard to pretend he doesn't know the human customs, and yet he's the first one to ask me that._ "It's a boy," he said.

"I hope he, and his parents, will live long and prosper," Spock said – and was that the ghost of a smile on his lips?


	25. Chapter 25

**My dear readers, thank you for your patience. All these years that I've been reading fanfiction, my biggest pet peeve has been authors who abandon stories for a month at a time. I've become the thing I hate.**

 **The six weeks have been a major challenge in several ways, starting with the death of my friend, continuing with the election results (my day job deals with immigrants and refugees, so the Trump platform has created a lot of fear and uncertainty), and culminating with my grandma going into hospice care. I am still writing, but the pace has taken a major slowdown.**

 **I remain committed to finishing this story, though I can't give you a timeline. Without further ado, chapter 25.**

* * *

Jim walked into the costuming offices with a data tape in hand. "Good morning, Alice," Jim said to the slightly plump, wavy-haired brunette young woman who was his most regular contact in this department. Five months ago, Alice Dalzell had sent him a formal complaint about the attrition rate on uniforms. The language had been, well, spicy, but the statistics were indisputable. So he'd responded by arranging to have her favorite dessert delivered to her during her shift, accompanied by a note apologizing for the inconvenience and offering to recommend her for a promotion.

They'd been on a first-name basis ever since.

And yet, at the sight of him, a flash of horror passed over Alice's face. "Oh, Jim, we just made you four new shirts last week! What did you do?"

"Nothing! Nothing. I'm not here for shirts. I was hoping I could commission some specialty work, civilian clothes," Jim said.

"Oh. That's a relief," Alice said with a sigh. Custom jobs broke up the tedium. There were only so many ripped clothes one could patch with the singed remnants of a uniform that had been blown off its late owner, before one started to reconsider the decision to join Starfleet. "Well, what did you have in mind, Jim? Casual stuff for traveling incognito? Maybe a nicer suit, something for dancing?"

"Maternity dresses," Jim said, and Alice suppressed an unprofessional gasp.

"You don't look pregnant," she said, hoping the sarcasm didn't sound like insubordination.

Jim gave her one of those charming Kirk smiles – _if he could bottle those up, he'd retire a wealthy man_ , Alice reflected.

"I'm not pregnant. But I have a friend on board who is, and I thought I'd surprise her with a couple of presents," Jim said smoothly. "I think three or four in assorted colors will do. Nothing too fancy, just things a woman could wear around the ship and still look stylish. I'd leave the general design features up to your professional judgment, though. I don't know anything about maternity fashion."

Alice smiled back. "There's not much call for maternity clothes aboard ship. This will be a change of pace for the team," she said thoughtfully. "But it's good to keep them on their toes. Do you have the expectant mother's measurements?"

Jim held out the data tape he'd brought. "Pre-pregnancy only, I'm afraid," he said apologetically.

Alice waved off the concern. "Ah, pregnant women get thicker, but they don't get taller. Once you get the length right, you just have to make sure the design is forgiving enough to accommodate a larger butt, swollen legs, enlarged breasts, and of course the obvious bump where the actual baby is cooking," she explained. Jim looked mildly surprised by her expertise, so she added, "I have three sisters, each of them with at least two children. I'm the oddity, heading out into the black instead of producing more Dalzell kids."

Jim nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose a lot of Starfleet members are slight oddities, to their parents. At least those among us who aren't triple generation officers, anyway," he added.

Alice nodded too, but she wasn't thinking about family dynamics. She was mentally designing clothing. _Maybe we can recycle some of the rag pile, make a nice patchwork for one of the skirts . . . Focus on stretch and durability for the whole suite, naturally . . ._ "You can expect some progress by Friday," she told the captain. "And we should have the whole kit done by Monday."


	26. Chapter 26

"Have you thought about a name?" Jim asked Carol from where he was seated on her bed.

"I've thought about a thousand names," Carol said, her voice slightly muffled by the bathroom door. "I even looked up a data tape that's supposed to help you pick one, but there's millions of things you can call a little boy, you know that?"

"Yeah," Jim said with a chuckle, "I guess there are. Well, at least you've got time. It's only week fourteen, and you don't strictly need a name until week thirty-eight."

"And I could stretch that a bit, if I gave him a cute nickname for his first few weeks out in the world," Carol said as the bathroom door swished open. She stepped into the cramped room and asked, "How do I look?"

Jim turned and took stock of the dress she was wearing. Alice had pieced it together from scrap fabric left over from endless uniform repairs – skillfully, to be sure, but it was still patchwork. The bodice was mostly command gold, with a garish science-blue-and-operations-red skirt. "Like you've had the strangest promotion in Starfleet," he said.

Carol frowned, but there was a little sparkle in her eye. "You're the one who paid money for this thing," she teased.

"And, I stand by my decision," Jim said, "The costuming people have to do something with all those shirt scraps I keep sending them, and you need to wear something on your way home. It's not like we have a maternity boutique on board."

"Right. It was sweet of you to think of getting a few things made. Thank you for this," Carol said, the smile returning to her face. She crossed over and sat down on the desk chair, so Jim shifted on the bed to face her again. "But, may I be frank?" Carol asked.

"By all means. I'm not your commanding officer anymore," Jim smiled.

"Do you realize that you're acting like we're still together?" Carol asked. "Eating multiple meals with me every week, giving me a family heirloom, ordering me clothes . . . Jim, we've been broken up for over a month."

 _A month? Really? So she's leaving in less than two?_ Jim, for once, had no quick comeback, no smooth response. He hadn't given A Tree Grows in Brooklyn to any of his other sixty-three ex-lovers. _But this is different. She's pregnant. A man is supposed to be sweet to a pregnant lover. Besides, I never wanted to break up in the first place. I mean at least not yet, though I probably would've been OK with it eventually, because my world record is ten months._

"Uh, well, I guess I'm guilty as charged," he said. _Starship captains don't blush. Right, and they don't sound sheepish, either._

Carol raised an eyebrow but kept her mouth shut. If she intended to rescue him from his embarrassment at any point, she was showing no signs of it. Jim tugged on his shirt self-consciously. "I know I'm your ex-boyfriend," he said finally. "But I'm still the father of your current child, so, uh, I was hoping the rules would be a little different."

Carol's eyes dropped for a moment, and Jim wondered if the word "father" had been too presumptuous. There was a pregnant pause.

She finally broke the silence with a little laugh. "I don't keep up with the latest etiquette vids," Carol admitted, "I don't know all the rules, either."

Jim laughed too, from relief. He decided to take a chance on saying some of what he'd been thinking for a month. "Carol, do we really need rules? We broke up because we're headed in different directions, not because we hate each other or stopped enjoying the company. Can't we stay friends?" _Can I still be a part of your life?_ he wondered.

Carol shifted her weight and looked at Jim thoughtfully. "Friends, sure," she said, "But, call me crazy, I don't think you give these kinds of presents to most of your friends." She held the skirt a little away from her body to illustrate.

 _Starship captains don't blush._ "Bones would look awful in that," Jim deadpanned.

Carol did laugh, but she said, "Seriously, Jim. Would you please tell me what you're looking for our relationship to be?"

 _Are starship captains allowed to be shocked?_ Jim was quiet for a minute as he thought about how to answer. He looked at the ceiling and his hands and the walls, everywhere except at Carol's face. He'd thought about this question a thousand times, yet somehow, he couldn't come up with the right words.

"I only know I don't want it to be over," he said at last. "Not for good. So yes, I'll want to send you messages and maybe buy you presents. But I won't ask you to marry me, or wait for me. I wouldn't put you in that situation." He watched Carol's face, and when she didn't react, he added, "You can go your way, live your life, raise your son. I'll be back on Earth in four years, and if there's no one else . . . I hope we can revisit this then."

Carol looked at Jim for a long, long moment before she said, "All right. Four years."


	27. Chapter 27

_I submit the following as a token of my sincere commitment to finishing this story eventually._

* * *

 **From** : **Lieutenant Amru, Recreation Department**

 **To: Captain Kirk**

 **Re: Festivity Request #087497551936**

Captain,

Your request has been reviewed. Respectfully, I present the following critiques:

While the Recreation Department is well-equipped and prepared to host a variety of events on short notice, including but not limited to birthday parties, promotion ceremonies, celebrations of all major Earth holidays (e.g. Federation Day, Christmas, Eid al-Fitr), engagement parties, weddings of assorted traditions, repasts, etc., we did not launch in the expectation of throwing a baby shower. Thus we are not prepared with any of the traditional decorations, activities, or presents that would be required.

Re: the presents, no facilities exist onboard for the production of any of the items on your suggested "registry" list. Furthermore, Lt. Marcus intends to make an inter-ship transfer soon, and would have no means to transport all of the gift options you suggested we provide. I assume based on those facts that you intend for us to make arrangements for guests to carry out subspace ordering of the same, to be delivered to an address on Earth. To which I make the following two replies:

That would represent a significant commitment of resources, in both computational power, radio range, and staff time; and

You have neglected to provide us with a suitable shipping address.

The Starship _Enterprise_ does not have recreation facilities large enough to accommodate, as your request suggested, "all of us" at the same time. Nor would it be advisable to reduce the staff on any shift in order to permit such a party to be held.

Please advise as to the preceding points, or the Recreation Department will be unable to approve your request.

 **From: Captain Kirk**

 **To: Lt. Amru, Recreation Department**

 **Re: Festivity Request #087497551936**

Presents may be sent to 1138 Osceola Street, Apt. 1B, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, USA, Earth.

Regarding your other concerns, I defer to the expertise of the Recreation Specialists. I have full confidence in your abilities.

 **From: Lt. Amru**

 **To: Recreation Department - ALL**

 **Re: Emergency Staff Meeting NOW**

GET YOUR ASSES IN HERE, WE HAVE A SHOWER TO PLAN.


	28. Chapter 28

During a brief break in the long line of well-wishers, Carol gratefully accepted a glass of sparkling cider from a passing tray. She took a cool sip while surveying the Deck 9 Rec Room. Dozens of crewmembers were milling around – some playing "nursery bingo" in one corner, more playing "name that tune" in another. A row of tables along one side was still, somehow, full of snacks despite the fact that all the guests had been eating like kings. Every wall was draped with strings of decorations shaped like bottles and prams and rattles. She'd wondered why those even existed onboard until she realized each one was different - someone in the rec department had handmade four walls' worth of baby shower decorations from whole cloth. _I wonder if Jim's going to hand out a field promotion for that_. _How many work hours did this party eat up?_

Her train of thought was interrupted by someone saying, "Congratulations, mama!" She turned to see Ensign Garrowe, in plainclothes for once, her red hair flying loose in all its curly glory.

"Thanks," she said with a smile. "I can't believe how many people came out to this shower."

"Are you kidding? For the first baby conceived on the _Enterprise?_ I wouldn't miss it," Garrowe said with a twinkle in her eye.

 _Please don't ask please don't ask please don't ask -_

"I sent a present to your place back on Earth," Garrowe added, pulling out her PADD and tapping up an image. It was a tiny bookshelf, full of children's books. "Baby's first library," she explained, "With all the stories and pictures printed on cloth, so they're unrippable, and handles on the top shelf so baby can pull himself up."

Carol smiled at the thought. _My son, learning to stand._ "That's just perfect. Thanks so much! Have you gotten a slice of the cake, yet? It's amazing. Hardly tastes replicated."

"Oh, I'll work my way over to it," the ensign said with another smile. "Did you get some?"

"Two slices and counting," Carol whispered conspiratorially.

Ensign Garrowe laughed, a deep belly laugh that didn't sound like it could possibly come from such a slim woman. "Well, well, you're entitled right now, I suppose. So, by the color scheme of all these decorations, I'm guessing you're expecting a boy?"

"Mhm," Carol said with a nod. "Due dates are a little tricky to work out with stardate to Terran conversions, but sometime in the fall."

"Does he have a name yet?"

 _Everyone asks the same questions,_ Carol groaned inwardly. "He has a heartbeat," she said in a bright tone, "I heard it in sickbay the other day. And I suspect he must have muscles forming, because I feel him moving sometimes."

Garrowe looked down at Carol's belly. "Is he strong enough that other people can feel him, yet?"

"No," Carol said, "Apparently that's not common until at least month six or seven. I might be back on Earth before anyone else can feel the baby kick." _Which means Jim won't feel it, ever._

Garrowe nodded. "Ah, I'm sorry to be asking silly questions. I'm just – curious. My husband wants to start a family when I get back home. But that's years from now. Anyway, what do you think about a third slice of cake?"

Carol giggled. "I think I shouldn't want it as much as I do. But hey," she waved at her stomach, "It's our party, right?"


	29. Chapter 29

Back in her room after the twelve-hour party, Carol slipped her shoes off and rubbed her swollen toes. _Helluva party, but I should've let myself sit down more_ , she reflected. She rotated her ankle and listened to the joints pop. _Or at the very least, sat out the conga line._ _I don't have the stamina I once had for three-shift parties._

 _And this is only month five of nine._

Ah well. She stretched out on her bunk, still clothed, and sighed as her sore back decompressed. She could just reach far enough to get her PADD off the desk without having to sit back up, which was perfect.

"Dear Jim," she typed. "The rec department insists this was a shipboard morale activity, but I think I know whose fingerprints were on that order. Thank you for organizing me such an epic baby shower."

She paused. Jim had stopped by the party, but kept his attitude casual – just a captain attending a shipboard event, that's all. She wondered what would've happened if he'd stood next to her and had everyone say "congratulations, mama and daddy."

It struck her that none of the guests had asked about the daddy. _Oh – do they all know already, somehow? Did the gossip get around?_ A flush rose in her cheeks at the very idea. _No – it can't be – we were so careful – but, then, who_ _do_ _they think knocked me up?_

The PADD was still on, the cursor blinking. She added, "I love the thought that I'll get home and practically have a whole nursery set up already. This was really the best combination baby shower/going away party I've ever been to. Plus, awesome cake! Truly, thank you. But now that everyone knows I'm expecting, who do you think they think is the father?"

She re-read the message, selected the last sentence, un-selected it, then finally selected it again and hit "delete." _What can he do, take a shipwide survey? "On a scale of 1 to 10, how likely do you think it is that Carol Marcus is carrying Jim Kirk's baby?_

She signed the message, "Love, Carol" and hit send.

Her video message alerts bar blinked, again. There had been a message waiting for two days. This time, the blinking was accompanied by text saying TWO NEW MESSAGES. Carol opened the message bar and tapped through to the newest message first.

"Happy baby shower, Carol!" Christine Chapel said. "I know what you're thinking: 'how did she find out about the shower?' Frankly, I think your ship's recreation department might be staffed by telepaths. Somehow they found contact information for your non-ship friends and sent baby announcements with your registry info." Christine held up a PADD with the announcement on display. "Actually, this is quality design work. They even put in a holographic stork, see?" Christine tapped on the PADD and a digital bird popped up with a swaddled baby in its beak.

 _I'll be damned_ , Carol thought.

"So you see," Christine continued as she set the PADD down, "This baby shower is interstellar news. I wouldn't be surprised if it broke the next galaxy, soon. I had to be quick to find something on the registry that wasn't already spoken for! But, I have arranged for a couple of toddler-safe ship models that have buttons and make annoying noises. Pressing buttons and annoying Mommy are two very important childhood development milestones. Besides which," Christine added with a wink, "I think starships are a fitting theme, considering where and with whom this baby was made. Happy baby shower, Carol, and I look forward to seeing you again!"

The transmission ended, and Carol had a smile on her face. _Christine would become the cool aunt in this story, wouldn't she._

The other message was still waiting. Buoyed by Chapel's good wishes, Carol bit the bullet and tapped "view."

A middle-aged woman with long hair appeared. "Greetings from earth, Dr. Marcus," she said. "Since it's been two years, I suppose I should reintroduce myself. Winona Kirk," she added with a wave. "I guess it's too early to congratulate you, but I'm happy to hear that you're expecting.

"Jimmy called and told me that you two are – uh, he explained the situation. And I know you're intending to do this on your own, which is absolutely a commendable thing to do. But I want you to know, that if you want help, or support, or advice, or, I don't know, some kind of company . . . I'm in New York. It's only an hour to Pittsburgh by shuttle, and instantaneous by transporter. Which of course you already know."

The woman smiled and shrugged self-deprecatingly. "This isn't the smoothest of introduction videos, I know. I didn't plan what I would say before I said it. I just . . . I want to be a part of your life, and your son's, if you'll let me. All my kids are off exploring the stars. I have energy to spare." She smiled. "Well, that's all. I hope I'll hear from you soon."

The video ended. Carol drummed her fingers along the edge of the PADD. _She's met me once. And yet, somehow she is my best friend on Earth._ She opened up a new message – text rather than video, because she had just come from an all-day party and her hair was a mess. "Dear Winona," she typed. "I received your video message, and I want to thank you for taking an interest in someone who is almost a perfect stranger. When I get to Earth, I'd like to meet up and get to know one another a little better. Love, Carol."


	30. Chapter 30

The _Atlantis_ hailed them right on schedule. Spock was on duty, and handled the official details. Uhura relayed the word that Dr. Marcus would come aboard via shuttle rather than beaming, due to her delicate condition. The helmsmen, professionals that they were, worked out all the details of a synchronous holding pattern and transferred the right coordinates to the mobile nav computer.

Meanwhile, many decks below, Captain Kirk boarded _Enterprise_ Shuttle A and slipped into the pilot's seat. "Are you all aboard?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Duffel bag, check. Box of snacks for the trip that Dr. McCoy insisted on sending, check. Pregnant ex-science officer, check," Carol said. "If there's anything else to bring, I don't know about it."

"Right," Jim said, then in his best "recruitment ad announcer" voice added, "Starfleet crewmembers travel light at triple the speed of light."

Carol smiled, but carefully decided not to laugh as she said, "And so do ex-members on their way home."

"Sublight only for this trip, though. OK, strap in, let's get this show on the road." Jim worked through the pre-flight checks while Carol activated the extended safety straps. The shuttle bay screen parted and they took flight. Jim carefully confirmed and double-checked the coordinates for the _Atlantis_ before switching over to autopilot.

"How long did the helm say it would take to dock with _Atlantis?_ " Carol asked.

"About three hours," Jim said with a knowing smirk. "How will we pass the time?"

Carol smiled wryly as she reached into her duffel and pulled out a pack of cards. "Poker, maybe?" she suggested.

"In the presence of an impressionable baby?" Jim grinned. "Deal me in."

A pregnant silence settled over the pair as they played. Carol won the first hand, then Jim won the second, then Carol won hands three through eight. "Are you going easy on me, Jim?" she asked as she opened up a bag of peanuts.

Jim forced a smile. _What could possibly be on my mind, I wonder?_ "Oh, I'm just distracted. Don't worry about it."

Carol looked at him knowingly and said, "Okay, then." She re-shuffled the cards. They played ten more hands, Carol winning seven of them, before the autopilot prompted Jim to take back manual control.

He dropped his cards and hurried over to the pilot's chair. Snapping into Captain Kirk mode, he activated the radio and called, " _Enterprise_ shuttle four, hailing the _Atlantis._ Request permission to dock." Permission was granted, tractor beams set, control relinquished. Captain Kirk turned back around and slipped back into being Jim. "Guess this is it," he said to Carol – was it a tinge of resentment in his tone?

"Guess so," she said – and was that a hint of regret in hers?

The shuttle slid into the bay like it was on rails, magna-locking to the deck with a WHOOSH-THUNK. Carol unbuckled herself and stood up. "Carol," Jim said suddenly, urgency in his voice. Carol turned to face him, but he couldn't seem to get the next words out.

"Yes?" she prompted as she slung her duffle bag onto her shoulder.

"Uh, it's just . . . if you change your mind, if you need help, you can call me. I'll come home, for the child."

Carol nodded, but she also thought, _you already are home with all four hundred of your children._ "I know. Now, come give me a hug goodbye."

The shuttle doors whooshed open as they were letting go. The _Atlantis's_ second officer, a petite Orion woman with dark hair, offered Carol her hand for support coming down the steps. "Welcome aboard, Dr. Marcus!" the woman said brightly. "And congratulations on the baby coming. When you informed us of your condition, we assigned you quarters near sickbay. They're a bit cozy, but I hope you'll be comfortable there."

"I'm sure I will, commander," Carol said as she carefully stepped down the short ladder.

"Captain Kirk, will you join us for a meal? Or can we offer you any entertainment tapes or supplies?" the officer asked.

"No, thank you. Please look after Dr. Marcus, though. We're all very sorry to see her leave the _Enterprise._ "

"Oh, we will. Bon voyage, captain."

"Au revoir, Jim," Carol said with a wave.

The shuttle door slid shut. Jim got back in the pilot's chair. He flew the next three hours on manual control, not allowing his thoughts to wander. _Don't look back. Don't look back._

Later that evening, Jim stepped into his office and spotted a package on the desk. It was wrapped in some plain muslin – a scrap from the costuming office, he guessed. He'd seen the same done for birthday presents, since Starfleet hadn't sent any gift wrap into deep space. He picked up the package carefully and untucked the cloth, revealing a holoframe. The projection in the middle showed Jim and Carol flipping upside down and right-side-up again in the cargo bay, three months earlier. It must have been cut from the _Enterprise_ security cameras.

There was a note on the back of the frame: "Dear Jim, thanks for the adventures. Remember me. Love, Carol."


	31. Chapter 31

"Captain, a personal message just arrived for you, from Earth. Do you want me to patch it through to your conference room?" Lieutenant Uhura asked one afternoon.

"Absolutely," Jim said, as he all but leapt from his chair and ran to the conference room. He'd been counting the days.

He slid into his seat and tapped the "play message" command. Carol Marcus appeared on screen, sitting at a table with a bowl of something steaming in front of her. "Hello, Jim," she said, "This message is to inform you that I am officially in labor. But the pains are still ten minutes apart, so we're not leaving for the hospital yet. Your mother is here, and suggested I eat something so I can keep up my strength. Hence this well-sugared porridge you see before me." She tilted the bowl just slightly to demonstrate what was in it. "Anyway, try not to worry too much if you don't hear from us for a bit. You know these things can take days, sometimes, though personally I'm hoping to measure it in hours."

She winced suddenly, and Jim heard Winona's voice from off-camera: "Remember to breathe, honey."

"I AM breathing," Carol groaned. "Ugh. Right. Well. To avoid cursing on camera, I'm going to end this for now, Jim. We'll send an update once we have something to show you. Or someone, I should say." She managed a tight smile at the camera. "See you soon." The video disappeared and was replaced by the UFP seal.

The following hours felt like the longest Jim Kirk had ever endured. On the bridge, he fidgeted so much – drumming his fingers, jiggling his knees – that Spock finally suggested he take a few shifts off.

In sickbay, he paced until Bones drawled, "Jim, I'm sure we could have a carpet installed if you'd like to wear a hole in it. Why don't you go beat someone up in the gym?"

In the gym, he sparred with anyone who would take him on – for four hours straight. Eventually, even he had to admit that he was hurting himself.

In his quarters, he restlessly stared at the holo of himself with Carol, flipping back and forth and back and forth. _She was already pregnant. That's the first picture ever taken of the three of us._

In the cafeteria, he ate two-thirds of a cup of pudding before realizing it was strawberry-flavored. He paged sickbay in a panic as his lips started to swell. Bones met him in the captain's quarters to give him an epinephrine shot, for once sparing him a lecture about _avoiding known allergens_ , _for God's sakes man, I'm a doctor not a nanny_. Instead, his friend gruffly reassured him: "It's going to be fine, you know. Giving birth is almost too easy, nowadays. It's not like in those gloomy old books you won't stop reading. Even if she needed to do it surgically, she'd be patched up and holding her blessed event in under an hour."

"I know," Jim said miserably as the epinephrine kicked in, "But it's still impossible to wait."

Bones sighed and got a red tablet from the pill cabinet. "Here, take this and sleep through the next six hours. You might be a father by the time you wake up."

 _I already am a father_ , Jim thought as he obediently swallowed the pill. _I just haven't met the kid yet._

In the end, it was a full day before the next message arrived. Uhura patched it through to his quarters, where he'd been trying – and failing – to re-read Moby Dick for nearly three hours. The computer pinged and he almost dropped the book. Catching himself, he forced his hands to stay steady as he carefully put the delicate item back on its shelf. Then he rushed over to the desk to see what Carol had sent him.


	32. Chapter 32

It was Winona, not Carol, who appeared first. She held the camera at arm's length. "Hello, Jimmy!" his mother said with a proud smile. "Greetings from Greater Pittsburgh Medical Center. We just got settled into the new mother's room. I have to say, Carol made this all look easy." She looked to the left and said, to someone off-screen, "Are you ready?" Jim heard Carol murmur something in response. His mother turned the camera around, making the picture whir, shake, and finally re-focus.

Carol was sitting up in a hospital bed, wearing one of the loose cotton "patient suits" that Jim knew all too well. She looked like she hadn't slept, but her smile was genuine. She had a little bundle tucked in one arm. She smiled up at the camera and said, "Hi, Jim! Sorry we had to keep you waiting, but honestly I don't think you missed much. Turns out childbirth is extremely painful. At least it wasn't quite as traumatic as Francie made it sound in _A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_." She grinned. "Anyway, that's all past now. Allow me to introduce," – she lifted the bundle up, repositioning the blanket to reveal a tiny face – "David Marcus, age two hours."

Winona zoomed the camera in on the baby's face. He looked like – well, he looked like a baby, that's all. Puffy cheeks, eyes a bit bruised from the fluids, red pressure marks from having been squeezed through his mother, no hair – exactly like every newborn ever birthed, really. Nothing particularly special.

The tears were pricking behind Jim's eyes and his arms felt very empty.

Carol's voice continued from just off screen. "Obviously, we can't tell yet whether he'll be much of a looker. But the doctor said he's moving his limbs all the right ways so far. And he shrieked so much coming into the world, I thought maybe they'd hear him in the next state! The only thing he'd calm down for was my breast." _Atta boy_ , Jim thought. Winona raised the camera to show him how widely Carol was smiling as she looked down at their – her – the little boy.

Carol added, "He's sound asleep right now, so I can't show you how blue his little eyes are. We're going to send you a couple of photos and some paperwork with the video. He's uh, he's 3.3 kilograms, and 57 centimeters. They said that's average. I guess nature had to split the difference between a giant like you and a tiny lady like me."

Jim heard his mother chortle from behind the camera. "If only you'd seen Jimmy as a baby. He started out tiny, then he shot up really quick."

 _That might be the first time she's laughed while talking about my infancy,_ Jim thought. _The maternity ward must be pumping a sedative through the air._

Carol said, "Well, that's all for now, Jim. Your mother is taking good care of both of us." Lifting David's tiny arm, she cooed, "wave bye-bye to the Captain!" She blushed a little bit as she added, "And, uh, thank you, Jim."

The video ended. _Thank me for what?_ Jim wondered. _I didn't do anything._ Then he shook his head in confusion and opened up the still photos that had been attached to the message: Carol holding David against her chest, David in just a diaper with the cord taped up over his tummy, Winona holding David in the crook of her left arm with one of his tiny fists around her right thumb, a close-up of David's face. Jim stared at each one in turn, and then went back over them all in great detail. _Yup, a bit squishy_ , he thought, _but he'll be a looker, all right._


	33. Chapter 33

**18 months later**

Carol had barely begun her lab report when she heard the _thump-beep-jangle_ of a toddler climbing out of his playpen and landing on a toy ice cream cart. With a sigh, she stood up from her desk and went back to the playroom.

David looked up from the floor and giggled when she came in. "You've just got endless energy today, don't you?" she said. "You're going to play, no matter what Mummy needs to do."

"Play!" the little boy echoed. David crawled over to his xylophone and started smacking his hands against the bars.

Carol thought, _when he learns to pick up the mallets first, I won't have a moment's peace ever again._

Actually, he'd been a fairly easy baby, up until he learned how to walk. Since then, he'd never willingly sat still. All he'd done was wander through doors, and bump into tables, and open any unlocked cabinets, and grab everything in sight, and stuff most objects into his mouth. Plunking him down in a playpen was the only way to ensure he didn't get in trouble.

At least it had been, until three days ago when he learned how to climb back out.

 _This one will be trouble,_ Carol thought. _Apropos enough, that's also what I thought when I first met Jim._

"OK, baby, we can play together for a little bit," she said, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. "At least until you're tired enough for a nap."

"Play," David said solemnly, smacking his hand against the longest bar.

Ninety minutes later, Carol was headed for the nursery with a sleepy toddler on her hip when she heard the apartment's message system go _ping._

Carol sighed with relief when she saw who it was from. _About time you sent an update._ "We've got another Captain Jim video, David," she said to her son. "Let's watch it as our bedtime story." She tapped _play message._

Jim appeared on screen, looking terrible. _Who keeps giving him black eyes?_ Carol wondered.

"Hi, Carol, hi, David," Jim said. "Um . . . you should see the other guy." He only half-smiled at his own joke. "This has been a strange week. You're probably going to hear about it on the news soon. There was an attack on Yorktown station and, well, the _Enterprise_ was involved." Jim grimaced. "Very, very involved. Some of the details have been classified, so I'm just gonna give you the basics."

He paused for a moment, obviously trying to collect his thoughts. "Well, first of all, the _Enterprise_ was badly damaged in a crash. They're salvaging what they can, but we're stuck at Yorktown until further notice."

He paused again, and Carol could see how much it pained him to admit that his ship was broken. _Again._

"So, the good news is that I'm fine, and so is most of the crew. I'm trying to focus on that. We, uh, we lost twenty-eight people." His voice broke at the number. Carol was surprised at how much her heart ached for him. _Keeping it together must be killing him right now_ , she thought.

"Well, we got the bad guy, which is what matters, right? At least according to the board of inquiry, which has decided I didn't make any command errors that led to this whole heap of shit. Still, I'm currently a captain without a ship, stuck on Yorktown writing out twenty-eight condolence letters. So I badly need a cheerful video of a happy little David. Can you send me one of those, please?" Jim asked, genuinely sounding like a desperate man. "And please kiss him for me, too, Carol."

The video ended. Carol looked down at her son, dozing against her shoulder. She pressed a kiss against the top of his head. "Captain Jim's gotten himself into a bad place," she murmured. "Oh, what will we do with him?"

A few hours of research later, Carol found her answer. She sat David on her lap and tapped _record message_. "Hi, Jim. Carol and David here. We're both so glad to hear that you're safe. I have duly given him several kisses from you since we heard. And there's a video of him playing with a xylophone attached to this one. But we're also going to send you something better."

Carol smiled at the camera. "I did some looking while David was napping. I found out we can squeeze onto the very next transport ship. It all works out. For once you're staying in one spot for a while, and my semester ends just in time for us to take a holiday. We can be there in a month, spend a month with you, and still get home before fall semester starts. David and I are coming to Yorktown for a visit, Jim."

She whispered to David, "Wave bye-bye for now!" David obeyed, smiling and giggling as only 18-month-olds can. She tapped _send message._

Hours later and light-years away, Captain Kirk heard his cabin's message system go _ping._

* * *

 **The End!**

 **I had so many ideas for more chapters – dozens of ideas – and possibly I'll write a sequel to incorporate those ideas. I start grad school tomorrow, though, so it's just not practical to keep writing an endless** _ **Star Trek**_ **story.**

 **Thank you all for reading and for your kind reviews and PMs. I hope you'll stay well and do good work.**

 **XOXO, Reader304**


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